Trails of a Gentleman
by TheUniquePenName
Summary: Being a gentleman isn't easy in today's world but it's a lifestyle that Pip lives by and strives to be. But when Damien forces his way into the blond's home for refuge, Pip must use every rule in the book to retain his patience with the noirette and resist falling into the temptations of hell. Rated for: crude language, violence, and sexuality
1. Chapter 1

_A gentleman is always polite. _

_Always gentle, always kind. Never outwardly angry nor shows spite. _

_A gentleman respects his fellow man and always offers out a hand. _

_He never curses or spits, physical reactions the last possible option on his list._

These words echo in my mind as I give a false cheery smile, successfully hiding the anger that twists and knots inside. The sharp words that sit at the edge of my tongue held back by a mixture of will power and the instinctive act to preserve my health.

"Quit smiling ya fucking fag," my project partner Eric Cartman hisses, "or I'll punch your crooked teeth in."

The ends of my lips twitch at his words, but obediently I close my mouth into a curved line and cheerily reply, "Eh, sorry chap."

_Out of all the people to be paired up with for a final school project…_

Turning my gaze back to the floor where my backpack sits, I pull out my marine biology book and flip over to the chapter on ecosystems. The assignment is not a difficult one—just merely creating an ocean ecosystem poster—but unfortunately I wasn't given the opportunity to choose a partner for this. I'd even take the bloke who moans and complains about the 'darkness of life' that sits in the back over this monstrous youth, but I suppose that my luck has never been good. Honestly though, it baffles me that such a simple project is given to us seniors, let alone us having to do the project in pairs.

My false smile falters into a neutral line as my green eyes scan across the room, noting all the lost potential of whom I could have had instead. There's Stan and Kenny in the back, both huddled over a textbook as if participating in the lesson at hand. Though, from the uncouth gestures Kenny is making and how Stan's shoulders shake with contained laughter I know their doing everything but that.

Craig and Tweek sit just a few seats away from them, both openly ignoring the textbooks on their desks. Their lips move but I can't hear what they say, but just from their gestures I know the conversation to be more savory than that of the previous pair. Though I don't know Craig that well—and don't exactly wish to—I know Tweek has always avoided such vulgar topics of conversation whenever spoken to; instead often rambling about secret plans or about human life instead.

The last two I recognize in the small class are the two gothics in our year. Their names escape my memory, but I never converse with them so it doesn't bother me that much. Still, any of these people would have been better partner than the one assigned to me by our teacher Ms. Filly—a woman who's more interested in her books on fish than her students.

"This'll be an easy A," Eric states, throwing his own book into his backpack before pulling out a handheld PSP, "I'll let you take care of it, fag."

_Of course._

"But, it's a partner project," I reply with a frown, "That means we have to work together." His brown eyes narrow and shift from his game to me. I immediately look down from the intense gaze.

_Should have kept my mouth shut._

"How about this," the brunette says, his voice hard as ice, "You take care of the project and, while you do that, I'll be kind enough to not punch your lights out in or after school."

I look back up at the burly young man and nod, fingers digging into the fabric of my jeans. "Right-o! Sounds splendid!"

Anger sparks in the back of my mind but I keep it under a tight hold. While no one has actively bullied me since 10th grade, there are still a few that will roughhouse with me when bored. Though Eric Cartman is one of these few, he's thankfully not the worse. His interest in bullying me watered down to taunting and a verbal punching bag—usually anyway. Still, it's nice to have his word that he won't bully me till this project is done. One less problem to deal with and I don't have to worry about him lying. Eric is known for keeping his word. No matter how outrageous the threat or idea is.

The rest of the class passes in quiet mutters and to the sound effects of Eric's game. I myself, pushing aside the project as well and instead begin to read "The Two Towers" by Charles Dickens until the lunch bell rings.

* * *

Perhaps its out of habit, or because of the simple fact that I always look for a place that ensures a quick escape but I always sit at the far table beside the emergency exit door during lunch. A tray of mash potatoes and Salisbury steak lie messily on the white foam tray before me and I poke it cautiously with my fork. My usual lunch crowd—Butters, Gregory, Christophe, and Tweek—sit around me. Each wrapped up in their own conversation while simultaneously trying to eat this meal. I'll admit it's an odd assortment of peers, but I'm not one to complain.

"Hey Pip," Butters says, turning in his seat to face me, "How's that marine class going? Tweek is freaking out about it."

"It's going very well chap," I reply, "We just have a simple ecosystem project to finish in our last two weeks to worry about. All my other classes are easy to breeze through honestly." With a smile I turn my gaze over to the twitching blond, trying to think of some words to calm the lad. "It won't be hard. Just follow the chapter and you'll be fine." Tweek squeaks from across the table, his eye twitching in a most disturbing fashion.

"Errgh, I hate that project!" he cries, "Urk! Too many sh-sharks and fish, man! All in two weeks?! Too much pressure!"

"Zhut up ya twitchy baztard!" Christophe suddenly hisses, causing Tweek to screech. A few heads turn towards the commotion but their attention isn't captured for long, quite use to these outbursts. Butters is the first to try and soothe the pale blond with gentle words and a smile. The motion slowly calms the twitchy young man, but no one else makes a move to help. Christophe reading something in a worn leather bound book while Gregory sits silently through the whole thing, his brown eyes fogged over in thought. I move my gaze back down to the meal, resting my head in my left palm as I debate on whether or not I should risk eating it.

_Just two more weeks then graduation,_ I tell myself, _Just hold out till then. _

"Erk! Pip!" Tweek calls, a whimper following his voice. Out of habit, a smile grows on my face and I look up at the paranoid fellow. He gulps and darts his eyes over to my right, mouthing, "You're being watched."

My smile falls and I slightly turn my head in my palm to glance behind. Eyes as black as ebony stare at me, pupils like dimming coals.

My face snaps back to the twitching blond, the blood pulsing in my ears. Anger rustles in my heart and I ball the hand holding the plastic fork into a fist, a forced smile forming on my face. I don't need to see anything else to known who's staring at me. His name is imprinted forever in my memory. My skin marred by his hands and flames, all for the acceptance of our 3rd grade class.

Damien Thorn.

The plastic fork in my grasp snaps, it's head clattering against the table. Tweek squeaks at the action and Butter places his hand comfortingly on my arm. I ignore them and shove my tray away, appetite ruined. With narrowed eyes, I open my book and begin to read where I left off. Anger boils in my chest, it's warmth branching out into my veins. Filling me from head to toe. But, like a gentleman I don't let it show. Allowing it to fester inside.

By his gaze I know this won't be the last time he singles me out today. However, I must hold out on my anger. A gentleman never lets his anger control his actions, no matter how much in the right he's in.

* * *

After breezing through Chemistry and a short suffering of American History, I make my way to the library for my last hour of the school day. If I were like any other boy in this school I would be forced to go to gym and do mindless activities to keep 'healthy'. But, my scars keep me from such activities. Limiting my movements in twisting my body to play sports. As such, I work beside the librarian and help to keep the rarely used books organized on the shelves.

Mrs. Tibbles barely give me a glance as I walk over to the counter and sign in. The madam too indulged in the thick book held in her hands. Pictures of her grandchildren sit beside her, all happy and well. I frown and feel a spike of envy shoot through me.

Both of my parents died shortly after my birth, leaving me in the care of my sister and her now ex-husband. But, when my sister also passed away back in 10th grade, God rest her soul, I had to start living on her life insurance and food stamps. It's not much but it's enough for now. It's finding a part-time job that's tough however. I don't own a car and most of the family-owned places around here are put off by my accent—ridiculous really but true. No body ever came and tried to take me away to an orphanage after she passed. No one seemed to care that I was left on my own. Only a few 'I'm sorry for your lost' were said and nothing more.

Shaking away the depressing thoughts, I pull a cart from the wall over to the 'return' box and begin to stack them. Only around ten are put into my care today and I don't know whether to smile or frown. Either some people really love to read or just got bored with the subjects and have no taste.

After placing the books up, I spend the next forty minutes dusting the shelves and straightening out the checkout records. Once done with that, I move on to waxing the wooden table and vacuuming the worn out red carpet floor. Then to end the hour, I spend the last few minutes reading from my book.

But just as I open up to my marked page, a pale hand snatches it from my grasp. Looking up my green eyes meet black and my anger reawakens. Damien looks down at me with a smug expression, his pale pink lips curved sadistically.

"'Ello Damien," I greet, forcing myself to smile, "Can I have my book back please?" He snorts and places the book under his arm before turning to walk away.

"Senior parking. Ten minutes," are the only words I get from him before he walks out the library door.

Anger changes to rage and my hands ball up into fists. I know what waits for me out there, and if I don't go then I'll be out of another book. He always takes them from me just because he can. Only giving them back when I meet him outside and let him humiliate me in front of his friends. It's always been this way since 8th grade. The only difference now is that he's more verbal than physical. Using mind tactics and my things against me in order to get me to sit still as he kicks me to the ground. Taking a few deep breaths, I retain my composure and head outside. Steeling myself for what awaits.

* * *

Five figures sit out by the black sports car, Damien leaning against the hood; my book held securely under his arm. Kenny and Craig sit on either side of him. The blond busy laughing at some unknown joke while the noirette stares into the distance. Stan stands adjacent from Kenny, laughing along while Kyle stands at his side; the redhead looking thoroughly bored and tapping his foot.

I slowly make my way towards them, hating how all their eyes land on me. Damien gives me a cruel smile and holds up the book.

"Right on time," he says, handing the book to Craig, "Now, I've had a bad day Pippers. A very bad day."

I flinch at the nickname and his smile grows. Pushing away from the hood, Damien walks over to me till we're face-to-face. Our eyes at the same level, his smoke scented breath making me want to gag. But, it is then that I'm hit by another smell. It's…sweet and musky. Very faint but there, clinging to him; calling my attention into a hazy focus. My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

_Cologne?_

A fist hits me in the side of the face, tearing me from my thoughts and causing my muscles to become tense as adrenaline begins to pump through my veins. My heart picks up in speed as I fall to the ground, my hand clenching my injured jaw as the other catches my fall. Hastily, I stand back up and face the devil-child. Noting how his knuckles are a slight red from the impact. The four behind him stand in silence, not daring to make eye contact with me.

"You are pathetic," Damien hisses as he marches my way, reeling back his fist before slamming it into the other side of my face, "Weak, sad. All of this for a simple book."

I cough and stagger back up, keeping my eyes level with his. My anger rises and I want so desperately to hit back but can't. If I even try he might call the others over to beat me too, like he's threatened to so many times before. The book in Craig's hold will never be given back to me if I retaliate—these factors reducing me to a punching bag. All of these not even bring in the fact that it's not gentlemanly to fight into play.

"I worked for the book," I calmly explain, wincing as pain shots through my cheeks, "May I please have it back?"

I hold a hand for it but Damien instead grabs my outstretched wrist and twists it behind my back, his other arm wrapping around my chest. With a cry, I struggle and claw at his arm. The bones in my arm creaking as they twist in an unusual angle, my nerves screaming.

"Let me go!" I shout, "Let me go! Let me go!"

"You didn't work for anything," Damien snarls, "You bought it with your sister's death money didn't you, you little whore? Always living off of others. Doing what you can to survive. Pathetic."

Anger flares in my chest and I growl, "Let me go!"

Damien tsks and tightens his hold. I give a silence cry and slowly he says, "Say please."

Gritting my teeth, I glare at him out of the corner of my eye. He twists my arm further and I scream. "Say please, Pippers."

Gritting my teeth and swallowing my pride I choke out, "P-please."

With that, he lets go of my arm and I stumble forward, cradling the pained limb. His throaty laugh echoes in my ears, making my blood boil. After a few moments of peace, the book is shoved back into my arms and I sigh in relief.

I look back at the group and relax when their attention is no longer me, each chatting away as if nothing had happened. Holding my book tightly I walk by them towards the sidewalk lining the streets. But, as I do I pause when I smell that scent again—sweet, musky, and slightly alluring. With a shake of my head, I pick up my speed and walk home. It's probably just my imagination.

* * *

I grimace at my reflection, noting the two huge bruises on each side of my face and the finger marks on my wrist. My peach colored skin shines in sharp comparison to the white burn scar tissue that wraps around my right side and slighter down my hip—the edges around the damaged tissue a light pink. My thin, long fingers brush against the large scar but I can't feel it. I can't feel anything in that area.

Green eyes in the mirror glance back up to my sharp-featured face. Following the flow of my ash blond hair as it curves around my face and tickles the lower part of my neck. Dark freckles dot the area under my eyes and over the bridge of my nose, a few spots of acne visible as small red bumps. Pulling my lips into a toothy smile, I sigh at my crooked teeth. The two front chompers twisted inward, creating a hole between them as my bottom row piles on top of one another in a need to be seen.

Without the scarring I could be considered normal looking. Average.

Turning away from the mirror, I walk over to my closet and pull out a pair of blue jeans and a long sleeve blue shirt, quickly discarding the towel to pull on the articles of clothing. I grab a pair of socks from my dresser drawer on the way out, sitting down at the table in my one roomed kitchen and den to pull the socks over my bare feet before grabbing an apple from the bowl of fruit on the counter top. Holding the fruit between my jaw I pull on my loafers left beside the door on the floor, and grab my trench coat and newsy cap from the coat rack. Throwing my backpack over my shoulder I do a once over of the nearly bare room before heading out the front door to head to school—pausing only to securely lock it behind me.

I race down the sidewalk towards the school, only having fifteen minutes to get there before the tardy bell rings. Turning the corner, my feet carry me pass the church and towards the park. Without breaking my pace, I push through the thin foliage and across the wide field—the school lying just on the other side. But, I nearly trip when I see an odd scene in the distance in the senior parking lot.

Dozens of dogs of all shapes and sizes bark and roam along the asphalt ground, yelping in excitement and rushing towards a familiar black car. My pace slows as I cross the street to the parking lot, recognizing it to be Damien's car.

_Why are all those dogs around it?_

Then the door pops open and like a bat out of hell, the devil-boy runs inside, disheveled and quicker than I've ever seen him. The dogs give chase, nipping at his heels. With a pitched voice, Damien lets out a string of curses and bursts through the school's entrance, slamming the door behind him. The mongrels seem to care not and crash into the metal door, pawing at it and letting out unharmonized whimpers and howls. I pause and stare. Not quite believing what I just saw. But, the ring of the bell yanks me from my thoughts and I run towards the door, push the dogs aside, and walk inside—the hounds howling in discontent behind me.

* * *

As the school day goes on things get…stranger. In study hall, a large group of students, including the teacher, hung outside the doorway for the entire class period. Then in Marine Biology the only ones present were one of the Goth kids, the teacher, and myself. Lunch was no better. While it was packed to the max as usual, an undeniable buzz echoed through the student body. My usual group eats in an eerie, tension filled silence and I can't help but wonder if something's wrong. But, seeing how it doesn't affect me I stay quiet. I ignore the oddities in both Chemistry and American History before it's time for me to head to the library—slightly running to get there and away from the excited whispers and giggles that litter the hallways.

Gently closing the door behind me, I set to work organizing the books and cleaning the shelves. While setting up a ladder to reach the top shelf I can't help but find the oddest thing today to be that no one's picked on me even a little. Not one sneer, jeer, or crude remark made my way. Climbing up the steps with a swifter in my hand I think, _Maybe my luck is finally changing?_

A bang resounds through the library and I sharply turn to see the library double doors swinging on their hinges. My brow frowns in confusion and I dart my eyes around to try and spot who came in. No one's in sight but I smell something. It's…sweet and…musky? I wrinkle my noise in discontent despite the alluring scent. Something is definitely off in South Park today, but then again when is it ever normal.

The library doors give another large bang and four young men run in. Two I can 't make out but I can definitely make out the bulky form of Eric and the twitchy form of Tweek.

"Where is he?" I hear Eric scream, marching forward into the room. Tweek gives a small shriek but follows the football quarter back, the other two unidentifiable students following behind them.

"Hey, Frenchy!" the brunette yells up at me, "Frenchy!" I sigh and place the duster down, turning to face the four students.

"Yes Eric?" I cheerfully ask, "How may I help you?"

"Have you seen Damien?"

My eyes widen in surprise at the question. _What can they possibly want with that prick? _

"I'm sorry Eric," I honestly reply, "I haven't seen him. Why do you need him?"

Eric's eyes narrow and a cruel smile forms on his face. "It would not be 'gentlemanly' of me to say," he mocks, "If you see him don't talk to him and just come tell me where you've seen him, or I'll knock your fucking teeth out."

I resist the urge to huff and instead merely smile and give a nod. The four students swiftly exit out of the library and I watch them leave in confusion.

_What could have Damien done to get on Eric's nerves?_ I wonder, _As far as I know they get along very swimmingly. Especially when it's to pick on others._

Then out of the corner of my eye I see a movement of black. Turning, I see Damien crawling out from one of the many tables in here. His black eyes land on my green ones and his face scrunches up in anger. Holding up a finger to his lips he signals for me to keep quiet before rushing out from under the table and through the library door.

I stand there completely dumbfounded and shocked. With a sigh I turn back to dusting the shelves. Not even bothering to linger on the scene. There's no way I'm getting involved in whatever is going on between them, even if Eric threated to knock out my crooked teeth.

* * *

With a skip in my step I jog home through the snow. No one picked on me at all today, a victory in my case. Even after school there was no one making jeers at me. Then I halt.

_I need to get supplies for the Marine Biology Ecosystem project…fiddlesticks._

With a groan of discontent, I turn back down the street and run towards the Dollar Store that lines on the most heavily trafficked street in this small hick town. If only I had thought of this before jogging home I wouldn't have to be out in the cold for more than thirty minutes.

One dreadful run later, I burst through the front door of the store. My clothes and head covered in a cold sweat. The cashier behind the counter ignores me as I walk over to the project center of the store and grab black poster paper, a pen, tape, colored pencils, and a ruler. Returning to the front of the store, I quickly place them as neatly as I can on the small register space. Slowly, the employee scans the items till she comes to the ruler.

"Hold on," she huffs, "I need to get one with a scan bar." I nod and turn my gaze out the window and, for the countless time today, am left baffled.

Damien's car sits on the other side of the street, the front of it embedded into a pole with a crowd of people around it. The driver's door has been torn open and I see a blond lifeless body lying inside. An ambulance wails in the distance and a resounding beep echoes in my ears.

I turn to the sound and see the employee scanning the ruler. Gruffing out, "$10.25" she places it into the bag and hands it to me when I pay exact change. The ambulance pulls into view as I walk outside. A stretch being set up as two people pull out the body inside. A sweep of relief washes over me when I see it's the Kenny boy. While painful, death is not an absolute for him. Though I don't care much for the people in this town, death is the last thing I'd want for anyone.

Without a word to anyone, I walk back down the sidewalk to my house. Even if I were to inquire on what happened I'd get around three to five different answers from the spectators. Besides, I'll hear about it in school via the rumor mill soon enough.

* * *

With a click of a key the lock on my door releases and I swiftly walk in. Closing the door behind with my foot, I set the project supplies on the kitchen counter, take off my trench coat and newsy hat, and place the articles of clothing on the coat rack. I pause for a moment and kick my shoes off by the sidewall before walking behind the counter and delve into the nearly bare fridge. Pulling out a half-empty half-gallon carton of milk, I reach back into the cabinet with my other hand and wrench out a box of Frosted Flakes. Setting both items on the counter top beside my supplies, I pull out a white bowl and fill it up with my dinner of cereal and milk.

My stomach growls grow silent as I eat. Taking another spoonful of the sugary corn bits I glance back into the still open cabinet and sigh. All I have left is what's left in this cereal box, a box of pasta, and three cans of chicken noodle soup—milk and butter being the only thing I keep in the fridge.

_I'll have to make a run to the food market soon_, I bitterly think.

Finishing up my meal and placing the bowl in the sink, I grab the receipt from the Dollar Store bag and walking over to my coffee table where my balancing checkbook sits. Grimacing I write down the amount I spent and subtract it from my funds for the month. Only $304.78 left. Should be enough to pay the bills if I'm careful about how much water I use and don't leave the lights on.

Grabbing the quilted blanket folded on top of my couch, I wrap it around my form and pull my legs to my chest, my socks still on my feet. I don't turn on the heat anymore if I can help it. Its just power I can't afford at times. Luckily it's late April and winter's hold is fading fast. A smile forms on my face and I pull the blankets closer.

_Just two more weeks_, I think, _Just two more weeks and then I can graduate and move away from this hick town._

My eyes begin to droop in exhaustion but as I become comfortably situated on the couch cushions, a loud banging starts on my front door; making me jump in surprise. With an irritated groan, I stand up and pull the blanket with me as I walk towards the front door. The banging increases dramatically as I approach and without thinking I pull it open saying, "Can I help…you…"

My words become quiet as I stare at the devil-child before me. With a heave, he pushes past me and into my house. I know I should probably push him back out but in my bewildered state all I can do is stare out the doorway. Warm fingers grip the scruff of blanket on my neck and pull me inside, making me land harshly on my back with a thud. The door slams close and I sit up with a groan.

"If anyone comes asking, I'm not here," Damien hisses. My green eyes shoot open and I stubble to my feet, leaving the blanket on the floor.

"And, why are you here?" I inquire, feeling my annoyance rise, "How rude of you to enter my house without permission."

The noirette huffs at my words. "I need to hide," he bitterly explains, "Hide me and I promise to give you anything you desire."

My eyebrows quirk at his offer, my mind beginning to reel. "Hide you? Why would I need—" I pause as that scent from early attacks my nose. Without thinking my mouth starts to water and I feel my blood boil in the best sort of way. Rational thoughts diminishes from my mind, the anger I once felt melting away to something I can only describe as longing. My gaze falls and eyebrows scrunch together. "What kind of cologne are you wearing?"

He curses and stomps pass me into the small den, his eyes scanning the area. "Fuck, you can smell it too can't you?" he growls, "That damn scent. Fucking thing."

"Scent?"

"Yes human. Scent." His teeth grid together as he speaks and I feel my heart freeze in fear at the sharp canine protruding from his lower pink lips. "I can explain better later," he rushes, "But right now I need to fucking hide or they'll find me." Waving a hand in my face to thin out his cologne, my eyes widen in confusion and slight fear.

"Who'll find you?"

Then the doorbell rings and the sound of a dozen fists pound at my door. "Fuck," Damien softly curses before running off to my room, "Don't let them known I'm here or I will rip out your tongue."

I stand in shock as the beating on my door persists. Out of habit, I walk over and open it saying, "'Ello. How may I help you?"

"Hello Frenchy," Eric sneers, his brown eyes scanning the room behind me, "You haven't seen Damien around have you?"

I shake my head and glance behind the bulky young man, surprised when I see four other figures at his back: Stan, Wendy, Tweek, and Clyde. What an odd arrangement.

Eric grabs the front of my shirt and pulls me nose-to-nose with him, and I flinch, letting out an undignified squeak at the action. "You aren't lying to me are you?" he whispers with a hiss, his atrocious breathe making me gag, "Cause me and the rest of them will happily punish you if you are."

I gulp and glance at the other four, shocked when I find their narrowed eyes on me. "I-I heard someone run past here a few minutes ago," I lie, "I'm sorry but I haven't actually seen him."

The giant of a man holds me for a few more moments before throwing me back into onto my houses hardwood floor. I groan and stay down, hoping they'll take this sign of defeat and leave me in peace. Without another word the group of classmates continue step away from my door and run down the streets, not even having the courtesy to close the front door.

I stay on the floor for a while before finally standing back up and closing the door. Picking up the blanket from the floor, I wrap it around my form before walking back to my bedroom. Damien is nowhere in sight in the tiny room and I call out, "It's safe Damien."

My closet doors rattle before slowly sliding open, the demon peeking out. With a smirk, he flings the door open and walks out into the open and I for the first time note his disheveled appearance.

His black locks stand up in the back, bangs stuck to his forehead with sweat. The usual plain gray hoodie he wears is torn along the bottom and the arms, maroon specks dotting along the cloth. His black jeans are torn on his right leg, a rip splitting the clothe all the way up to his pale mid-thigh—the other leg side covered up completely. His tennis shoes are the only piece of clothing seemingly untouched by whatever he got himself into.

"What happened to you?" I ask, pointing to his clothes. Damien lifts an eyebrow in confusion before looking down, a scowl growing on his face.

"I got into a car accident shit-head," he replies, looking back up at me, "Now, to important things. As promised for keeping me hidden I will grant you one thing you desire. No strings attached. But…"

I'm almost scared to ask. "But?"

"I need a place to lay low for a while, just until this fucking thing blows over."

My curiosity grows at the statement and without thinking I straighten up and lean in to hear what the young man has to say. "Perhaps, I'll follow your fucking stupid house rules while here," he continues. And, my curiosity is replaced with irritation.

"And, why do you need to stay here?" I ask, my eyes narrowed and lips frowned. With a sigh and a growl, he slowly replies.

"Because I'm fucking in heat."

* * *

**A/N: Yes, I know it's a theme that's been used over and over again, but stick with me here. It's not going down the road you believe it will. I have something much bigger planned in mind. The 'heat' thing is just to get the ball rolling and create some conflict. This is a slow build-up romance story.**

**Also, I will try to update as often as I can. I have up to 12 chapters throughly written out, but I don't like having to feel rushed to type. So, I'll probably only update a few as I write more to take their places on the waiting list.**

**South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone**


	2. Chapter 2

I stare blankly at the young man. My irritation replaced with curiosity and disbelief. Surely I hadn't heard him correctly. Shaking my head, I try to piece together my shattered thoughts. Looking back at Damien I ask, "In heat? Like…like a dog?"

"Yes Pippers, like a bitch."

I look down and shake my head at his statement. There's no way he's telling the true. "You're lying."

Damien chuckles at my response. "A lair I may be but this shit is true."

My mind begins to reel, struck silent by the sudden turn of events. The noirette curses and paces around my room, his hands curling into fists. As I open my mouth to ask him to leave, that sweet and musky scent wafts into my nose. My words die in my throat. The rambling thoughts clouding my mind disappearing as my muscles relax. With hooded eyes, I look around and try to pinpoint the source—my gaze always falling on the devil-child. I shake my head and continue to search.

_There's no way it's coming from him, just…no way…_

"You smell it don't you?" I hear him hiss. Lazily, I turn my gaze back up to his. His usually black eyes burn bright red with fire, the sharp angles of his square jaw catching my eyes. Against my will, my eyes take note of the stub on his chin and how his hair falls in small curls on his neck. My hands twitch with the sudden need to grab a hold of it as a dull heat stirs to life in my belly. I groan in frustration and place a quivering hand to my head, shaking the disturbing thoughts from my head.

"You smell my fucking pheromones," he explains, "Everyone seems to smell something different that allures them but I must admit that I'm impressed with you. I mean damn, no one has been able to resist them yet as well as you. I wonder why the hell that is."

"Easy, I find you to be a big prick," I spout before I can stop myself. My eyes widen in horror. "I am so sorry! I-I didn't—"

"Good," Damien interrupts with a sinister smile, "That's exactly what I want to fucking hear. Now some of my things are still at my house so you'll need to go and make a trip over there, Frenchy." I narrow my eyes at the insulting nickname, my anger flaring beneath my chest.

"I didn't say you could stay," I evenly reply. His smirk disappears and he quirks an eyebrow at me.

"It's not real gentlemanly to throw a man out in his time of need."

I stare agape at the young man. How dare he turn my code against me! But I hold back my angry words, as I know he's right—the fact leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

"Fine! But there will be some rules for you to follow." Damien narrows his eyes and crosses his arms at my words. "While you live here you will help out with the chores and the cooking, no exceptions."

The devil child snorts. "I can't fucking cook so that's out."

"You'll learn," I sharply reply with a smile, not missing a beat, "I'll make a list of chores and we'll decide how to evenly distribute them later on tonight." Damien growls at me, baring his bottom sharp teeth. With two strides he's up in my face, that alluring scent stronger and making my hands shake.

"Is this your damn wish for exchange of helping me hide?" he snarls.

I shake my head and force my voice to evenly reply, "No, these are the conditions you will abide by while living under my roof. You're welcome to leave anytime."

With a growl, Damien pushes me to the floor and starts to walk out my room. My anger boils over and I snap. Swiftly, I stand and grab him by the back of his hoodie, yanking him back on his backend. With wide eyes he looks up at me in surprise and I breathe deeply to try and keep calm.

"You will also treat me with respect and not harm me while under my care," I warn, my limbs starting to shake with tension and unease. Damien's eyes narrow as he stands, knocking my hand off of his back hood.

"Oh yea? And, what if I decide not to follow that rule?"

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and release it through my nose before straightening my posture. Hiding the my growing displeasure behind a calm façade, I look back at the demon and state, "Punch me and I will be forced to defend myself."

The demon's face lights up in amusement. "Was that a threat? Now, that's not gentlemanly at all."

"A gentleman never strives to create violence," I recite, "But he should keep a strong hand just in case." Damien chuckles and walks up towards me, bringing that scent with him. My brain begins to buzz as I lock my eyes with his. The anger and resentment melting away and making my muscles turn lax. Then without warning, a fist collides with my bruised right cheek and I stagger back. Damien laughs in amusement, until my fist meets his straight nose.

The noirette staggers back and grips his nose with his hand, small rivers of blood seeping through the finger cracks and down his chin. With wide eyes he states, "You fucking hit me."

Crossing my arms I sharply reply, words muffled by the renewed swelling on my jaw, "Yes, I did. Remember, you're welcome to leave anytime you like but as long as you're under my roof you will abide by my rules." The anger inside ignites as I speak, my words holding a slight bite to them that I attempt to retain. Silently, Damien stands and stalks out of my bedroom into the den, holding onto his bleeding nose.

After a few seconds of peace, my form slouches with a sigh and I retreat to my bedroom bath to retrieve the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet. Mentally scolding myself for acting so rashly, I walk into the den with the first aid kit in my hands. The small TV blares with reports of sunny skies and low winds as I enter before changing to another channel where a soap drama plays. Damien stands behind the counter with a small bundle of a napkin shoved up each nostril, the carton of milk in his hand. Eyes glued to the television, he drinks straight from the cart and I feel my irritation crawl back.

Without a word I walk up and pluck the milk carton from his hands, ignoring the glare from him as I place it back into the fridge. "I was fucking drinking that," he grumbles.

"Yes, you were," I easily reply, shutting the fridge door and setting the first-aid kid on the table, "Pull those nasty swabs from your nose so we can clean you up." Putting out some cotton balls and Q-tips, I turn back to the young man to find black eyes glaring at me. "Sorry, did you want to do this yourself?"

He 'hmphs' in reply and I walk away, taking it as a yes.

Sitting down on the couch, I reach into my backpack and pull out a paper and pen. Without looking, I reach back for quilt blanket on my couch and am surprised when I find it bare. In a moment of confusion I look around and notice one of it's corners peeking out in the doorway to my room. It must have fallen off when Damien knocked me down. I turn my attention back to the paper laying before me, too lazy at the moment to go back for the warm cloth.

Absentmindedly I write down the usual chores I do throughout the week: dusting, vacuuming, cooking, cleaning, making up the bed, straightening the house, and doing laundry. The only chore I don't have to do is mow the lawn—all the grass long dead from the harsh winter snow. A blessing because I hate doing any kind of yard work and a curse because it lowers my house retail cost.

Writing down the last of the chores, I feel the couch dip. Glancing out of the corner of my eye I see Damien sitting in the other spot of the two-seater couch, a cotton ball shoved is each of his nostrils. I have to hold in a laugh.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks in a nasally voice.

"Writing down the daily chores," I hand him the list, "These are the ones I usually do every week and if you're going to be staying here it's only fair if we split them up."

Damien grumbles and starts to speak but I suddenly…can't seem to focus on his words. My eyelids droop and I turn my face towards the young man beside me. That alluring scent surrounds me and like a moth to a flame I'm memorized. My green eyes etch out his slouched form; his brow frowned as he read the list I wrote. His pink lips move quickly possibly saying curses and words of spite but I can't hear a thing. My chest flutters and warmth fills my veins.

With great difficulty I tear my eyes away and focus on the soap drama playing on the TV. Like breaking a spell, I can hear again and the haze is lifted from my eyes. Damien still speaks, commenting on how he doesn't want to do chores and other things.

"How does 'being in heat' affect you?" I ask, cutting off whatever he was saying. The demon's grip on the paper tightens and the material crinkles under his broad hands.

"Why the hell do you care?" he cautiously asks, an underlying hiss in his words.

"I suppose I should know if you're going to be living with me. And, when most animals go into heat they look for a mate. N-not to say that you're an animal, or anything like that, but how does it work?"

Keeping my eyes on the TV screen, I can feel his eyes on me. With a sigh he replies, "I'm not sure myself. Fuck, I'll need to contact my Dad to get the full details but it seems to…attract most people. The only ones who don't run to me like a bunch of horny bastards are humans incapable of producing anymore or those that don't like me, like your prissy ass."

I give a nod and feel a lump form in my throat. "So, Eric and all them outside my door. Where they…?"

"Chasing after me? Shit ya. Unfortunately, a few of those fuckers have decided to try and force their sorry ass selves on me. Didn't you notice all the fucking weird shit going on at school?"

_Of course I did. I'm not blind!_

"Yes. I didn't know it had to do with you however. I just ignored it for the most part."

Damien snorts. "Well, about half the fucking school was trying to get into my pants today. Probably would have let the shitheads if they weren't going all fucking stalker-like about it." I'm struck speechless, a little overwhelmed by all this information. It's just too weird, too odd.

"But the thing is," he continues, "I don't feel any different. I didn't even know it was fucking happening till that bastard Kenny shoved his hand down my pants. I should have torn off his hand then."

I don't reply. Honestly, I can 't think of any kind of reply or words to say. To have a sudden change like this and to have some people going so far as to stalk him…it's barbaric. An uncomfortable silence forms between use, filled in by the main character in the soap drama confess his love for his mistress.

"So, this fucking stupid chore list," Damien slowly says, "What the hell do I need to do?" My eyes gaze back to the list in his hand and I hold out my palm for it. He gives it up without a fight and smoothing out the creases I lay it on the coffee table.

"Which ones would you like to do?" I ask.

"Fucking none of them."

A sigh leaves my lips at his anger and I lift up my eyes to his. His features stiffen under my gaze, his posture turning rigid. His lips turn up in a cruel smirk, as if silently saying, 'make me'.

_This is going to be a very tiring experience._

* * *

After a few minutes of arguing we finally decide that I'll take care of the laundry, bathroom cleaning, vacuuming, cook every other day, and clean the dishes when meals are made. Damien on the other hand will have to regularly dust, straighten up the house, and cook the day I don't. I'm not even going to try to get him to clean up the dishes he uses to make the food. It was hard enough just getting him to agree to do three simple chores.

"You got anything else besides the weather channel and this soap drama?" the demon child grumbles, "Is your cable out?" With a quirk eyebrow I turn to the young man, ignoring the sweet, musky scent that surrounds me.

"'Fraid I don't need it, sorry," I explain, "I never do watch TV besides for the weather. I usually read."

Damien sighs and sinks deeper into the couch. "Then get it," he commands through clenched teeth. My brow frowns.

"Why?"

"Cause I say to. It's entertaining to watch and trust me; you don't want me to be bored in your house. I tend to set things on fire when bored." Irritation washes over me at his words and tone.

_That's not the only time you set things on fire_, I think with a frown. Shaking me head, I reply, "Burn down my house and you'll have no where to hide. I am not getting cable. Sorry but I can't afford it just to keep you happy."

A growl echoes in his throat and his eyes flicker red, but he doesn't respond. Standing up I usher for him to follow me as I walk down the hallway, pass my room and towards my departed sister's. For a few minutes, he refuses to move from his place on the couch—his stubbornness shining through. But, finally when I shrug and start to walk away he strides over with a hiss, "What is it?"

"This will be your room while you're here," I explain as I open the room, "Please treat it with care, it was my sister's."

He snorts and light pink lips curl up in a nasty smile. "Amazing how you still care for her and her possessions. Did you already forget about the conditions she'd let you get in and then force you to go to school? Girl was a fucking bitch."

I bite my tongue as a venomous retort slithers into my thoughts. He of all people should not comment on my sister's deeds as he is no better when hitting me in the face with his fist or humiliating me with hurtful words. Taking a deep breath, I evenly reply with a sad smile, "She was family. Do not disrespect her or you will sleep on the couch."

"That's not gentlemanly," he states with a snort.

"A gentleman does not take rude remarks about his family well. Now, are you going to behave?"

His jaw clenches with a snap and eyes narrow. The fires of hell spark within those black irises and a slight tinge of fear runs up my spine. I ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach and turn back towards open the door. A broken sigh leaves my lips as the cool metal touches my hand. It's been seven months since I've been in here. With a click the knob turns in my grip and the door opens, revealing a multitude of shadows and dark shapes.

A hand swiftly pushes me in. I stubble forward and grasp onto the hidden dresser before me, my shins hitting the furniture's corner with a thud. A hiss escapes my lips as pain shoots up my leg and I snap my gaze over my shoulder to see the door close. A click resounds the dark room, signaling the lock being snapped in place. With wide eyes I scan through the black, rapidly blinking my eyes to adjust them to the low light.

Warm fingers wrap around the collar of my shirt, bringing me forward as an inhuman growl sounds in my ears. Hot breath hits my face and quietly I hear Damien hiss, "Don't EVER tell me what to fucking do. I might be under your damn roof at the moment but remember, this is only temporary and when it blows over I can subject your sorry ass to the cruelest torture you've ever known. Without regret."

I bite my tongue to stop myself from snapping back, instead evening my breathing before replying, "I did not tell you to do anything. I asked. If you don't like the rules here then you're welcome to leave."

We stand there, silent in the dark; the warmth that radiates from the young man. Lungs filling to full capacity in my chest as that enticing fragrance hits my nose. It's stronger now, urging me to come to its sweet aroma. With a harsh inhale between my clenched teeth I resist it, trying to pull my face further away. Flames of desire lick at my lower stomach and my attempt to pull myself from the demon's grasp rise in desperation.

Finally, I place both hands on his shoulders and push him away. Strangely, he gives with no resistance. Like a switch his anger seems to have disappeared and his grip loosens. I stand there, suddenly struck with the notion to find him again and wrap my hand around his. Shaking my head I bitterly think to myself, _Get ahold of yourself. This is not proper. Not proper at all._

Damien stands quietly before me. Even if I can't see him I know he's there, the warmth and scent radiating off of him alerting me to his presence. With a shuffle of his shoes, the devil-child walks away from me. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up on end as the squeak of his shoes echo off the wooden floor. Then the lock on the door clicks and with a creak the door opens, allowing light to pour into the room. With his back to me, he pauses in the doorway. "I'm going to talk to my Dad."

I nod as he walks away and head out myself when a thought hits me. _Wait, his Dad's the devil and the only way to contact him is…_

I pale. "Damien!" I cry, running into the den, "There will be no devil or hell summoning in my house!"

My feet come to a sudden halt when I see the devil-child standing in the middle of the kitchen, a black IPhone in his hands and a confused look on his face. "I'm no fucking commoner Pippers," he hisses, pushing in three numbers, "I don't need to get my hands messy to just talk to the king of hell."

The phone rings and I walk out of the den/kitchen into my bedroom, not wanting to accidently eavesdrop on Damien's private family call. If there's anything I should know then I'm sure he'll tell me in due time.

With heavy steps, I walk over to the bookshelf beside my full size bed. My eyes scan the titles, their spines crinkled and worn from years of love and care. One in particular has no name at all, bound in black soft leather. Smiling I pull it down and open it. Eyeing the lined pages littered with short stories and ideas written by my hand. One day when I'm gone I'll type some of these up and present them to a publisher. With some luck perhaps other readers will enjoy the stories as much as I do.

Carefully placing the book back in its place, I pull out "Trumpet of the Swan". While not a particularly thick book, its story is touching— despite being impossible. Walking back out, I grab the blanket from the floor and wrap it around my shoulders. Damien talks in small mutters on the phone and I quickly walk by him and plant myself on the couch. Opening up the book, I begin to read and my mind is lost in the story.

As I get to the part where the Swan father steals the trumpet for his son the couch dips and I'm thrown back into reality—my eyes staying on the page but no longer following the words. "My Dad will be bringing some of my shit over. He'll explain further about what the fuck is going on and give me an estimate of how long I'll have to put up with you."

My grip on the paperback tightens and without raising my head I ask, "Can you please ask before you invite people over? I don't like having guests over when I have a dirty house."

Damien scoffs and makes a show of looking around the room. "This is fucking dirty? Ha, you're place is cleaner than a nancy-boy's palace. A little rundown maybe but sparkling ass clean."

The ends of my lips tug into a bright smile at his comment, my delighted gaze landing on him out of the corner of my eye. I know this irks him because he suddenly exclaims, "Why the hell are you smiling?"

"Nothing in particular. Just happy that you find my place to be clean."

The demon's growling is cut short by the doorbell. With a plop, he sinks further into the couch, folding his arms over his chest and keeping his eyes glued to the screen. The doorbell rings again and I ask, "Aren't you expecting company?"

He snorts. "Yep, and almost every fucker in town is looking for me to get into my pants. I'm not answering the damn door."

With a nod, I close my book and place it on the coffee table, letting the blanket slide off of me and onto the couch. Standing in front of the door, my hands shake in anticipation. Gripping the doorknob, I pull the door open. "Hello, how may I help you?"

A huge red beast stands at my door, a hide loincloth covering his genitals and goat legs standing on my 'Welcome' door map. My head slowly tilts up, eyes widening in striking fear. Burly muscles lining with veins cover his arms, connecting his sharp claws hands to a hefty torso. A square jawed covered with coarse brown hair stretches out as the demon grins. Showing off his carnivorous pearly whites, contrasting with the black eyes and dark horns on his head. My grip on the doorknob shakes violently and showing a toothy smile I greet, "H-hello Satan, pl-please come in."

Moving aside, I allow for the king of hell to hunch over and walk into my small house before directing him over to the couch to sit where I had been. "Thank you Pip," he says, "You have a lovely home."

A lump forms in my throat and I squeak, "O-oh, thank you! W-would you like a d-drink? I only have m-milk and t-tea I'm af-f-f-fraid."

The devil lets out a hardy laugh and says, "Tea will be find. Whatever you have."

I quickly nod and head to the kitchen, calling out, "Damien, w-would you like some t-tea too?"

He hmphs and Satan replies, "He's fine. Not a big tea fan. Thank you though, you're a gracious host."

I shoot him a terrified smile before grabbing my kettle and filling it with water from the tap. Placing it on the stove I set it to boil at high and reach into the cabinet to retrieve a jug of Chamomile tealeaves I had already bagged to be added to the pot. Pulling out three bags, I set them on the counter before placing the jug back in the cabinet. It doesn't take long for the kettle to whine as it reaches the peek in it's boiling and with an oven mitt I pull it from the hot-eye. Opening the lid I dip all three teabags into the water before closing the lid with them inside and half of their strings out.

_Now, we just have to wait five minutes and it's done._

Feeling more at ease, I walk over to the two demons, confused by the sad look on Satan's face and the angry one on Damien's. "I'm going to have to do fucking what now?" the noirette seethes.

"Calm down son," the devil sighs, "It's normal. Every demon and devil goes through this in his or her life multiple times. It's completely normal."

I sit down quietly in the empty chair to the side and clear my throat. Both sets of black eyes turn to me. "I'm sorry to interrupt," I genuinely say, "But I just wanted to let you know that the tea will be ready in five minutes."

Satan nods. "Thank you Pip. I'm happy that such a nice boy is going to be looking over Damien in this moment of his life. I hope he doesn't give you too much trouble." I can only smile, not knowing what to say.

"Now, you already know that Damien is in heat correct?" the devil asks. I nod.

"Good, now let me explain what that means. When a demon goes into heat it's happens at a peak in his or her life. It doesn't happen to make us reproduce but to increase our sex drive. A devil's pheromones will increase and attract all willingly bedmates. The time of this, well, varies from demon to demon."

"Why would they go into heat just…er, participate in vulgar activities? No offense but there's no point," I state, "Besides that, Damien says that he feels no different himself. The people in our school are the problem."

Satan laughs and pats Damien on the back, making the poor young man cough and stumble forward from the sudden act. "We're devils Pip, it's in our nature to sin. This heat just heightens it because we're on our 'A game' so to speak," he explains, "As for Damien, he possibly won't be feeling the effects himself for a few days to a week. That is what I really need to discuss with you about Pip."

"He doesn't need to know shit," Damien hisses, jumping up from his seat, "Pip don't you have tea to bring us? Go."

My brow frowns. "Sorry, but I thought you didn't want tea?"

The demon seethes and shoots me a fiery glare, the pupils of his eyes burning a smoldering red. "Dad fucking said that, not me. It's not my fault you don't understand."

_A gentleman is always patient_, I think to myself as I stand up and walk back over to the kettle. Grabbing three white teacups from the cabinet I pour the tea 2/3 of the way full in the cups—emptying the kettle—and call out, "How much milk and how many sugar cubes would you two like?"

"No milk for me, thank you," Satan replies, "Just four cubes of sugar. I like mine sweet."

"Alright," I reply, placing the amount in the glass before setting it off to the side, "What would you like in it Damien?"

"Your fucking beating heart."

My eyes snap back over to the young man, only his black hair viewable as he's sat back down on the couch. "Damien!" Satan cries, looking at his son with a stern face, "Be more polite to those willing to house you. He'll take a little milk in his Pip. He likes bitter things."

I turn back to the remaining two cups and sigh as I add a few drops of milk to each cup. Placing a single sugar cube in mine, I pick up the other two teacups and bring them to the two devils—going back to get mine once empty-handed.

"Sorry about that Pip, he's just a little on edge," Satan says as I sit. Shooting him a smile and I turn my gaze back over the demon-child. Those black eyes fade out to red, glaring at me with such disgust that I swear I can feel my insides cooking.

"It's fine," I reply, "We're all a little on edge right now. What was it that you really need to discuss with me?"

Satan lets out a heavy sigh and sips on his tea before returning his gaze to me. "In the coming days, when Damien is feeling the effects of being in heat, I need you to watch over him," he states, "While independent, he's still my baby boy and I don't want him to get mixed up with low lives that don't treat him with respect."

Taking a sip of my tea, I nod in understanding and smile. Finding it nice how even if he is the king of hell he still cares for his son. "Of course, sir. I'll give him a place to stay and watch over him till this thing blows over. It's the right thing to do after all."

"That's very kind of you Pip. But I'm not talking about housing or watching over him." I freeze, that sinking feeling settling back in my gut.

"W-what is it?" I cautiously ask. Satan becomes unusually still and I glance back at the noirette young man on my couch. His gaze focuses on the soap drama playing before him, arms crossed securely across his chest. Looking back at the devil, I hear Satan say, "You will need to provide whatever he needs for his desires. I'm not saying to sleep with him necessarily but buy him the necessary supplies and protection. Supervise who he decides to let in and know when to say 'no'."

My face pales and I nearly drop my cup of tea. The devil sighs and continues, "I know this is a lot to ask from you Pip but I he will make it up to you. Do you accept?"

My green eyes turn back to the noirette, his face turned towards me with an expression mixed of an assortment of emotions playing on his features. With a sigh, I lean back in my seat and empty out the rest of the tea in my cup.

"I don't like it, but I suppose I have no choice," I lightly reply with a small smile, "I very well can't kick him out on the streets now. I will do as you ask of me but I have told him that if he is welcome to leave my house and care if he wishes. Will I still have to abide by your request if he does leave?"

"I'll leave you to decide if you wish to or not," the king of hell replies, "If he chooses to leave then that is his choice but I must ask that if he returns you must strongly consider letting him back under your care. This is going to be a tough time for him."

As I nod, Damien jumps up from his spot on the couch. His lips pull back in an ugly snarl. "You motherfuckers, doing all this without asking me for my opinion. Doesn't my voice fucking count? I'm not weak Dad, I won't easily fall to this heat shit."

Before I can stop him, he yanks the teacup from his father's hands and throws it onto the wooden table, spilling the contents but luckily not breaking the ceramic glass. With a heave, Damien pulls the red beast to his feet and says, "You've explained enough. Now, where's my shit?"

With a heavy sigh the devil snaps his fingers and two black bags appear near the couch, nearly startling me into spilling my own teacup.

"Out!" Damien hisses to the devil, who complies and opens the door.

Glancing back at me Satan says, "I'm counting on you" and walks out, gently shutting the door behind him.

I sit there in a state of shock while Damien heavily breathes, his whole body shaking in anger. Without a glance at me, he grabs his bags and stomps to his makeshift room in the back before slamming the door shut. The lock clicks into place and I set my teacup on the table with a groan. Getting a rag from the kitchen, I walk back over to where Satan's drink was spilled and wipe up the sugary liquid. Picking up the glass with my hand, I look down at the coffee table with a pained expression.

A corner of my book, "Trumpet of the Swans", has been stained brown. My anger rises and I have half a mind to tell Damien to come out here and clean up his mess, but in the end the action would only further anger him and prove fruitless.

Instead, I finish cleaning off the coffee table, do the dishes, and place the cereal back in the cabinet before folding the blanket to put on the back of the couch. The dim glow of the setting sun pierces through my thin curtains as I lock the front door. It's pink late spring hue giving my room illusionary warmth. After turning off the TV I head back to my bedroom and shut the door behind myself before bundling my body in the sheets—too tired and spent to even change out of my clothes.

* * *

**A/N: I hope this wasn't as much of an information dump as I think it is for you guys. Also, I have no idea how to prepare tea so if I didn't describe it correctly please correct me. If you see any misused/misspelled words or grammar mistakes don't be afraid to tell me about them. I'll fix them in a jiffy.**

**On another note, thank you everyone who read, reviewed, favorited, and/or followed on the last chapter. Honestly wasn't expecting anything but a few reads on this.**

****South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone****


	3. Chapter 3

The wailing of the kettle startles me awake from my deep slumber. With a jolt I throw the covers off and roll out of bed, my mind swimming and disorientated. The loud noise continues to screech as I gain my bearing, the sound piercing my ears as I wipe the sleep from my eyes. Rushing for my bedroom door I jam my toe into the bedpost and let out a hiss before reaching for the doorknob, opening the door with just a little difficulty.

I limp out into the den and am surprised to see Damien by the kitchen stove. I watch quietly as he searches through my cabinets before pulling down the jug of teabags and nearly cry out in shock when he grabs the hot kettle bare handed. However, he doesn't scream out when touching the hot metal, and as he places it on an unused oven mitt I'm shocked to see that his palm isn't burned at all. Curiosity peaked, I watch in amusement as he does as I did the day before—placing two teabags in the kettle with half the strings out.

The sweet and musky smell that calls to me curls around my senses like a snake, bidding me closer. With some difficulty I ignore it but still find my eyes looking up and down his form. Unlike me, the young man had switched out his clothes for a long sleeve black shirt and white sweat pants that—to my observation—are very low on his hips, showing off a sliver of the red underwear underneath. A quiet snicker escapes my lips and his posture stiffens. Narrowed black eyes snap to my sleepy green ones, his features twisted in shock.

"Quit starting you fucker," he huffs with no real spite, "It's creepy." A smile forms on my lips as I sit down at the small two-person table to the side. It's been a while since I've woken up to tea already being made.

"Good morning. Say, when did you learn how to make tea? Your father said you didn't like it." Damien lets out a humorless laugh and leans against the counter with his arms folded.

"My Dad doesn't know shit. And, I saw you do it yesterday. Not that hard."

"You watched me make the tea?"

He stiffens and a frown forms on his lips. "Had to make sure you weren't poisoning it or calling one of those bastards to tell them where I am," he crisply explains.

My smile widens and feeling a little brash I say, "I don't have a phone, and do you really think any of them would give me their number? Also, why would I tell your father I'd watch over you if I was going to poison you?"

His frown deepens and two sharp canine peek out from his bottom jaw. Black eyes spark red and muttering an inaudible string of words the demon-child reaches into the cabinet for two cups. Pouring the cup's 2/3 full, he places them both on the table before retrieving the milk from the fridge and the sugar cubes form their containers on the counter.

"Are you not going to answer me?" I question as he sets the products on the table and takes a seat. Damien gives me a single glance before pouring in a few drop of milk into his tea. "I guess not," I sigh putting a sugar cube in my cup, "Pass me the milk please. What are you going to do about school today?"

With a grunt, he shoves the carton towards me. "I'm not going to school."

My mouth opens in shock and saying a quiet 'thank you' I take the milk from his grip and pour some into my teacup. "You need to go to school," I gently scold, "Get a good education, graduate, hopefully go to college, and get—"

Damien's fist bangs on the table's surface and I jump in surprise. "I'm not going to school."

My smile falls into a frown and I let out a sigh. "Very well. Should I contact your teachers and obtain your schoolwork? You don't want to fall behind so close to graduation."

"Don't fucking bother," he replies, "I haven't been sick once from that shitty school. They'll let it slide. Dad's already taken care of it."

I nod and take a few sips of the tea, loving the smooth flowery taste it leaves on my tongue. We drink our tea in silence, my eyes darting to the round clock above my stove from occasionally to check the time. But soon, the tranquility is broken when my glass becomes empty—the clock reading 7:19am.

Getting up I place the teacup in the sink and head into my room towards the bathroom. Locking the door behind me, I begin to peel off the blue shirt and my worn jeans when my eyes fall on the other door—across from my bathroom entrance—that leads in Damien's makeshift bedroom. It's a bit odd for a house to have a Jack and Jill bathroom and I wonder if Damien knew about it.

_Did I tell him or not?_

With a hum of indifference I continue to rid myself of yesterday's clothing and step into the tub-shower combo. Warm water caresses my sides, arms, and legs. Releasing the tension from yesterday and causing me to let out a pleased sigh. The worries and responsibilities I have for the other waiting in the den momentarily forgotten.

* * *

After showering, brushing my teeth and hair, and changing into a new pair of jeans and a white button up I head out into the den to find Damien sitting in front of the TV—his attention solely on the soap drama playing. Glancing at the clock I feel my heart rate momentarily quicken. I have 15 minutes to get in class or risk being in detention for tardiness. Quickly I grab my last apple from the bowl on the counter and pull my loafers from beside the door onto my feet. Pulling my trench coat from the coat rack I swiftly put it on before grabbing my hat.

"I'll be back about an hour after school lets out," I say turning to the devil-child, "With the two of us I'll need to get some more food. Is there any kind you want?"

Lazily, Damien turns and leans back to look at me. Without a word he holds out a crinkled paper in his hand, and taking it, I smooth out the paper; surprised find it to be a list of food—a long one at that.

"Sorry, I can't afford all of this," I explain with a frown, "There's also no way for me to transport this much home by hand. Can you pick just three things please?"

Damien rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers. "Check your pocket nancy-boy," he says before turning back to the TV.

Though confused, I do as he says and gasp when my fingers brush against cool metal and plastic. Pulling the two objects from my trench coat pocket I'm surprised to find a clicker key and a black credit card in my hand.

"W-what?" I stutter, bewildered beyond words. Damien grunts in frustration before standing up, leaning over the couch, and yanking the front door open. My jaw drops when I see his car sitting outside in my driveway, completely renewed as if the accident had never happened.

"Didn't you…? Why is it…? What? How?"

Damien folds his arms and rolls his eyes. "It's a car dumb ass. You know how to drive right? Use that to get the damn food home and use that card to buy it. Keep them on you from here on. I won't have much fucking use for them while stuck here." I grip the two objects tightly in my hand, shocked by this.

"T-thank you," I mutter with a small smile.

Damien scrunches his nose in disgust. "Don't ever thank me for shit. It's gay as fuck."

His black eyes trail out to the black Aston Martin Raptide and with a hum he snaps his fingers. I watch in amazement as the metal of the car bends and stretches, not making a sound as it's mutilated. The black vehicle is soon morphed into a rundown pickup truck and I look to Damien, a little puzzled by this.

"If your poor sorry ass showed up in my car you'd be killed," he explains, sitting down to face the TV, "You got ten minutes to get your ass to school."

I jump and rush outside, locking the door behind me before jumping into the beat up truck and crank it to life. The engine sputters and coughs to life. Excitement buzzes through me, not being able to drive a car since Driver's Ed. With little difficulty I back out of the driveway and speed down the street to school, feeling on cloud nine the entire time.

* * *

The school buzzes as the rumor mill clicks it's gears, puffs of smoke and hot air filling the air. I watch it all in mild amusement. The feeling of holding information they all claw and starve for in my grasp both excelerating and horrifying. While I will not ever purposefully reveal Damien's whereabouts, for his safety and mine, to just know that for once I'm ahead and tower over them is satisfying.

Despite the uproar about where the demon-child disappeared to, school progresses normally. I sleep through Study Hall, get threatened to complete the project by Eric in Marine Biology, Tweek apologizes for his rudeness and actions the other day at lunch—in his own words "Erk! It was like brain control, man! Don't know what came over me."—, I suffer through Chemistry and American History, and end the day with reading some short stories in the library.

However, as I walk to my new borrowed truck I see a lone figure standing beside it, admiring it. Walking closer and I see the blonde hair and orange hoodie. I sigh in relief at his appearance. Even if he doesn't stop the bullying he's never joined and, honestly, I'm always a little worried about his constant gory departures. Even if he's physically all right, the emotional and mental scarring possibly runs deep.

"Good afternoon Kenny," I greet, causing the taller lean boy to jump in surprise and whirl his blue eyes on me. His brown eyebrows shoot up into his blonde locks and a toothy smile forms on his face. The young man waves and points to the rundown truck, his eyebrows quirking in confusion.

"Oh…" I trail off, quickly trying to think of an explanation, "It's a gift from my sister's divorced husband Joe. Was suppose to come over in the winter but he couldn't find the time till now to bring it."

I bit the inside of my cheek after I speak, hoping to God that he'll accept my response and disgusted with myself it came to me so easily. The lanky young man pauses for a moment before nodding and giving me a thumbs up. I give a small smile. "I saw the accident you were in yesterday. Are you all right chap? How did you get caught up in that dreadful mess?"

His smile falls and eyes downcast. Taking a few steps he walks up to me and bends down to my level. "I…tried to force myself on Damien," he softly says, voice barely above a whisper and shame on his face, "It just…happened. Like I lost my mind for a bit. He swerved the car and well." He gives a shrug and stands back up to full height, shoving his hands in the jacket pockets.

"I'm fine though. Thanks for asking," he continues in that soft voice, years of staying mostly silent making it rusty from disuse.

"No problem chap," I happily reply, "Would you like a ride home?"

A genuine smile forms on his face and slowly he shakes he head. "I'll be fine but thanks anyway."

And with that, Kenny walks down the sidewalk and out of sight.

* * *

A sigh leaves my lips as I look at the crumbled list, my arms holding up my weight as I lean them on the handlebar of the shopping cart. Satan was right about Damien liking bitter foods, it's some of the only food items on his list beside hamburgers, hot dogs, and pizza rolls. But, I am surprised by how many vegetables make up the list: mushrooms, spinach, tomatoes, olives, and broccoli—perhaps because they're bitter, or 'evil' because no one likes to eat them. Either way, I will not be eating them.

My eyes scan to the bottom of the list to find the last three things being the title of movies—the only reason I know this being that Damien wrote 'movie' beside them. I quickly make my way over the entertainment center and look for the titles with the help of one of the employees. But, when I see the covers I'm…appalled.

While one doesn't look that bad, just an image of a girl snuggled in a bubble bath, the title 'Teeth' sets me on edge. The other two 'Bride of Chucky' and 'The Human Centipede' make me want to just walk away and tell Damien I couldn't find them. But, with a pained sigh I add all three to my cart; knowing if I didn't get them the guilt would eat me alive.

Making my way to the checkout line, I swiftly buy my items before carting them outside to place in the truck. The drive home is relatively short and I smile in joy. Usually it would take me thirty to forty minutes to make the trip to and back when getting groceries. I'll have to return this kindness to Damien somehow.

My smile falls as I pull up to my house and pack in the driveway. Muffled music plays loudly from within followed by short almost inaudible screams. I pale and quickly exit the truck.

_What have you done, Damien?_

Unlocking the door and opening it, the music nearly blows me away before becoming silent and my eyes widen as I gaze around my den kitchen combo. The old square TV I own has been replaced with a flat-screen, an Xbox One and PlayStation 4 platform nestled on a shelves of the TV stand. A big speaker sits in each corner of the den and a pile of movies litter the floor. Damien sits on the couch, the blanket woven around him and a controller in his hand. Black eyes gaze at me before crinkling as his lips make an unsettling smile.

"Fucking beast right?" he proudly exclaims, "Got you cable too."

I stand there, speechless, completely unsure of how to respond. But with a shake of my head, I head back to the truck and grab some of the groceries before heading back in to a suddenly irked devil-child. Damien stands in the doorway, one hand on the paneling and the other curled up in a fist. Letting out a gasp of surprise, I quickly look up and down the streets before whispering, "Damien get inside! What if someone sees you?" His eyes spark red but reluctantly he stomps back inside, myself following slightly confused.

"Fuck you Pippers," he hisses taking a seat on the couch and unpausing the game on screen. Filling my small home with quick paced music and yells of combat.

My eyebrows quirk in confusion at his sudden change in behavior but I decide to leave it for now. By the way he's pushing those controller buttons I should let him cool off a little. Bringing the rest of the groceries from the car and putting them away, I walk over to the couch and place the movie on the coffee table before the angry young man. His red eyes glance at the covers and he pauses the fighting game before picking them up.

"Fuck yea, at least you can do one thing right."

My brow frowns and with a frown I ask, "What have I done wrong?'

He doesn't reply and instead returns his attention back the game. A sigh leaves my lips at the lack of response and I sit on the couch. Or at least, I try to until Damien quickly moves his legs to lie across the loveseat. I look at his feet and then back to his face. The young man doesn't even give me a glance.

"Um, Damien," I call making him grunt in response, "Can you please move you're feet? I wish to sit."

"Tough titties."

I recoil at his response. "Please Damien?" I try again, letting out a sigh when he ignores me, "What're I've done to offend you I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you mad, but I'm not a mind reader. What have I done?"

The demon-child snorts and pauses his game. Sharp red eyes bore into green and suddenly he sits up and grabs ahold of my trench coat collar, yanking me down harshly. An inhuman growl echoes in his throat, bottom canines peeking over pink lips. That alluring scent flutters around my nose and, despite the sudden fear the shoots up my spine, I'm suddenly struck with the need to lean in.

"Apologizing and not even knowing 'why' I'm mad," he speaks, hot breathe caressing my face, "How fucking pathetic. Most people would thank me for this generosity and instead you just ignore it." His words mesh together in my head and I have to force myself to focus on them instead of his lips.

"Generosity?" I question. His eyes burn brightly at my words and the skin on my neck starts to feel unbearably hot.

"I gave your shitty den an upgrade. Least you can do is say fucking thanks or suck my dick." I choke at his last words and feel my face turn red. An image pops up in my mind and I quickly push it away, disgusted with myself. Damien's face softens at this before he breaks out in laughter, letting go of my collar.

"You're fucking imagining it!" he exclaims between chuckles. The flush on my face deepens to a darker shade of red, and a cocky smile forms on the young man's face as he places both hands behind his head.

"Go on ahead," the devil continues, his voice unnaturally soft, "Dig in but don't expect anything in return."

My eyes narrow at his tone and offer, my nose scrunching up in repulsion. Folding my arms I evenly bite out, "If you want that then call someone. I don't participate in such vile things with uncouth beings."

His laughter grows at my words. "'Uncouth beings'?" Damien mocks, "So, if I were someone who holds an unreasonable amount of anger and pride you'd lick my stick?"

Anger flickers to life in my gut, but taking deep breath I try to calm down. Reminding myself that if I lose my temper I'll fall to his level. "I'm not withholding anger nor am I prideful."

Damien's smile widens and I'm shocked by the amount of sharp teeth. A deep, badly contained chuckle leaves those lips as he stands up, looking me straight in my eyes.

"Then I'm guessing you won't mind what I did to your sister's room then?"

My heart stops and my face pales. Hands clench into fist by my side, the urge to grab and yell at him barely being held in. Without another word I rush down to my departed sister's room and open the door. The interior making the last of my patience slip away.

_Disgusting._

The dolls that use to line up on her mirror dresser have vanished. Replaced by a pile of porn magazines. The artwork that had adorned her walls replaced with posters of gore films and torsos of curvy women. An upside down pentagram painted in black sits on the far wall above the bed, the plain brown sheets switched out for ones colored a deep ruby red. There's not a single thing of my sister's in sight.

My hands shake in rage and blood pounds in my ears. Padded footsteps approach from behind and Damien chuckles. "So Pippers, what do you fucking think?"

My jaw clenches shut, trapping the bitter words on the tip of my tongue.

_A gentleman is always gentle and kind. Never showing his anger or spite. _

"Where are my sister's things?" I slowly ask through clenched teeth. The demon-child hums, the sound setting my nerves on edge.

"Don't worry about it," he finally says with a laugh, "What's the matter Frenchy? Your panties get twisted?" Breathing deeply, I try to calm my rapidly beating heart and still the shivering in my limbs.

_A gentleman is always gentle and kind. Never showing his anger or spite. _

"I don't even know why you care," he continues placing an unbearably warm hand on my shoulder, "She'd beat you for one mistake. Starved you until your ribs would show and when you'd come home purple and blue she wouldn't even blink an eyelash."

"She was family," I bitterly reply.

"No, she was a bitch. A grade 'A' bitch."

My knuckles begin to ache with the need to come into contact with something, the fingernails biting into the flesh of my palm. The blood pulses in my ears. So loud that I wonder if the demon beside me can hear it's thump. I grind my teeth together, creating sparks of pain to shoot through my gums.

_A gentleman is always gentle and kind. Never showing his a…_

His laughter meets my ears and something inside of me snaps. Before I can stop myself, I throw the hand off of my shoulder and turn with sharp glare. Damien's eyes widen at my change and calmly I walk towards the demon. His eyes narrow and a smile grows on his face as I come face-to-face with him, that sweet and musky scent only angering me further.

"Where do you get off disrespecting my departed sister's room like this?" I hiss, "Show some respect for the dead."

He laughs. "Respect the dead? What damn respect has she earned? Fucking none. Even in hell she has not earned a shred of fucking respect. Let her be tarnished."

"She was FAMILY. No matter what she did she was MY family."

The way his lips curl makes me twitch; the want, the need to punch that smug expression off of his face filling me from head to toe. But, I withhold myself for the sake of my consciousness. Violence has never solved anything.

"She was a. Grade. 'A'. Bitch."

A crash meets my ears and pain shoots up my hand into my arm. The skin on my knuckles split, bruising the tender muscles covering the thin digits. Nerves in my fingers and palm scream at the sudden pressure but I can't bring myself to pull away.

The drywall crumbles around my left hand, the length of my arm brushing against Damien's ear. The shock on his face melts into a cruel smile, and snarkily he states, "See? You withhold anger. Your fuse is long as fuck but even you can explode."

Like a switch, my consciousness rises at his words and my anger shifts to guilt. My eyes look over at the hole in the wall beside Damien's head before lowering them in shame. Pulling my fist from the wall I mentally scold myself.

_How could I allow myself to get so angry like that? How could I have lost control?_

Cradling my wounded hand, I walk away with my head down over to his door into the lavatory. He grunts and follows me, his feet softly thumping against the wooden floor. Without a word I grab the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet and pull out the Band-Aids, cotton balls, and hydrogen peroxide. Carefully I tend to the small wounds on my knuckles, cleaning them with hydrogen peroxide covered cotton balls before wrapping them up in plain Band-Aids. All the while, I can feel a pair of eyes on me and glancing out of the corner of my eye I'm proven right. His red eyes bore into me, a confused look on his face with a hint of irritation.

"I'm terribly sorry about my actions," I sigh placing the items back into the first-aid kid, "It was rash and not proper of me at all, but please try not to speak ill of my sister. She was the only family I ever had."

Placing the first-aid kit back into the medicine cabinet I hear Damien curse and exclaim, "Fuck it Pippers! When you get mad you're supposed to stay mad! Not apologize. Especially when you're in the right." A heavy sigh leaves his lips and I turn towards him, curious at his choice of wording. "Listen up motherfucker, I just insulted your sister. Why the hell are you saying 'I'm sorry' like a fucking pussy?"

"Because it's not proper. A gentleman should never lose his temper, no matter the circumstances."

His eyes widen in disbelief, a scowl forming on his lips. Throwing his hands up in the air he walks back out into his makeshift room and out of sight. My head turns to the mirror above the sink; tired green eyes look back at me. Pushing myself away from the image I walk back into the den, taking care not to let my eyes rest on the vulgar material Damien left out for the world to see.

As I enter the kitchen I'm treated to a rare sight. Damien cooking. Although it's only a pot boiling a package of hotdogs I'm still shocked. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye before pulling the buns out of the cabinet and throwing them on the counter. With a smirk he turns to me and says, "There damn dinner's done. Your turn tomorrow."

A small smile grows on my face and with a nod I agree. With a toothy grin, he turns and opens the fridge. Objects shift and creak as he reaches in before pulling out tomato.

"Are you a vegetarian?" I ask as he washes the tomato. He rolls his eyes before shooting a look that clearly reads 'are you stupid'.

"No, dumb-nut. I just like the taste. Tell any fucker about this and I'll tear your nuts off." I quickly nod in reply. Placing the tomato on the counter he takes the boiling pot off of the hot eye and places it on a cool one before reaching into the cabinet for two plastic plates.

"Catch," he calls, throwing one at me like a Frisbee. Caught off guard, it clatters out of my grasp and hits the ground, causing the demon-child to laugh. "Your grip fucking sucks Pippers."

I don't reply and pick up the plate to dust it off. Damien fills his plate with his tomato and three hotdogs while I just have two. We eat in silence, not really enjoying the others company but the peace is nice—especially after what just happened. Damien quickly wolfs down the meal before biting into the fruit, droplets of red oozing on his fingertips, down the palm of his hand, and over his wrist.

I pause in my eating as he pulls down his sleeve, the juice running down his forearm. With a huff, he flicks out his tongue and licks up the trail, and it's then that I notice his scent. It's stronger than it was this morning, triggering the memory of when I lost my temper earlier and lighting a small fire in my gut.

Closing my eyes I do my best to ignore it and continue to eat my meal but eventually reopen my eyes—hoping that this spell is over. Unfortunately, my eyes immediately land on that red tongue and pink lips. He doesn't even seem to notice my stare, lazily leaning his head on one hand while holding the fruit in the other.

As he takes another bite I count twelve sharp canines in total, six on the top and bottom with the incisors separating them equally in threes. A shiver creeps up my spine as they tear through the thin red skin, the juices tinting those fangs pink. His lips move as he talks, his words white noise to my ears. I rapidly blink my eyes and slowly sit up, not realizing I had been slouching. "Pardon me Damien but I didn't catch that?"

He sighs and swallows his mouthful of food. "I said to not fucking worry about your sister's stuff. I packed the shit up and stuffed it in the closet. Not like I'm going to use it."

My face falls in surprise before brightening in gratitude, almost not believing what I'm hearing. A smile grows on my face and I exclaim, "Really? Well, thank you Damien. I appreciate it."

His nose wrinkles in disgust and he finishes off the rest of his meal, licking the juices from his hand. "I told you to not fucking say 'thank you'. You sound like a pussy."

"Then how am I supposed to thank you?"

The noirette sighs in agitation and mutters a curse. "There are other ways of showing gratitude. Going on about how awesome I am or giving me presents are two good ways. Of course sexual favors are good too." My smile falters and a thought occurs to me, _Is his heat already affecting him?_

But I keep this question silent. Determining that it'd be rude to ask.

"Why did you try to anger me if you hadn't harmed any of my sister's belongs?" I ask instead, "There was no point."

A cocky smile stretches across his cheeks, showing off his upper fangs. Red eyes flash with fire. His eyebrows narrowed. "No reason. I just wanted to piss you off, and I was a little pissed too. Plus, the fact that you denied your sins made it so much more enjoyable."

I let out a low sigh and continue to eat my meal.

_God, give me patience._

* * *

**A/N: I feel as if I should warn you guys, the next chapter is why I rated it M. Seriously.**

**Also, thank you guys who followed and reviewed last chapter. Your comments make me smile and encourage me to write so I hope to see more in the future. And, I can see all you little 'Ghost Readers' out there. I hope to one day hear from you guys too. ;)**

**As I stated before in Chapter 1, this will be a slow build-up romance story. There will be no 'filter chapters' here however. Every chapter will either build up the relationship and/or move the story forward.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Early update because I love you guys.**

**WARNING: There is ****explicit sexual content in this chapter. You've been warned.**

* * *

For the next two days we fall into a routine schedule. I'd head off to school every morning and Damien would spend his time watching TV and playing video games. He and I would cook according to who's turn it was, but wouldn't really converse outside of the arguments he likes to pick with me for just the sake of seeing me lose control—which I haven't since that incident Wednesday, thank God.

Every morning he'll make us tea, which I'll admit is odd but nice so I don't question it. Lord knows how he'd react if I did. However, his scent grows stronger as the days pass and when Saturday comes along I have to visibly distant myself from him time to time. Luckily he doesn't seem bothered by this at all, so my fear of acting rude was quickly diminished.

It was nice to spend a quiet day without having to worry about school, despite the company. All day he sat in front of that TV playing his, well, 'Mortal Combat' I think he called it, and I read a few books from my small personal library. All was good and well, until that evening.

I stare at the folded piece of paper before me on the table before turning my eyes up to the devil-child. His face is twisted in a scowl and arms are folded across the black shirt covering his torso. Red eyes look anywhere but at me, and if I weren't so unfond of being set aflame I might ask what's wrong. Placing my book 'Great Expectations' down, I pick up the folded paper and begin to open it when Damien's hand suddenly shoots out and grips around my fingers harshly, forcing the paper close.

"Ow, ow, ow," I hiss, the nerves in my digits crying out as their pressed into odd angles, "Please let go of my hand, Damien!"

He does as I ask and refolds his arms. Cradling my fingers I look at the folded paper and then back at him, confused by his actions. "That's a list of things I need," he bites out through clenched teeth, "You are not to fucking read it until you're already in my car and driving away."

I quirk an eyebrow in confusion as he speaks—questions bubbling in the back of my mind. But, I keep silent and nod in response. I'll learn sooner or later what's on his mind.

Giving him a reassuring smile, I grab the piece of paper and walk over to the door. Pulling on my trench coat, newsy hat, and loafers I bid him farewell before heading out the door, pausing only to lock it. Loading into the truck I crank the engine to life and pull it out of the driveway into the street. Respecting Damien's wish I do not open the folded piece of paper until I'm parked on the side of the street on the market lane in town—not risking opening it while driving.

What I read makes my face flush red.

The list consists of an assortment of lubes, condom brands, and what I believe to be sex toys. Fanning my face, I refold the sheet of paper and fall back in the leather seat. Satan had said that I would need to provide everything for Damien's needs, but sweet baby Jesus.

_No wonder Damien wanted me to leave the house before reading it._

My hands fiddle with the black credit card in my pocket as the gravity of the situation falls upon me. I will have to walk into a sex shop, purchase the items, and then walk out with the bag in hand to my truck. People will see me—God forbid some of the observers being my own classmates. My reputation will change for the worse if I'm seen. It's not good now but dear Lord. I can already imagine some of the jeers and taunts I can receive on Monday if seen.

Taking a deep breath, I exit the truck on the passenger side and walk down the sidewalk towards the first sex shop in sight. Not even caring to look at the name, I walk into the window-boarded shop—a small bell dinging upon my entrance. A middle aged man stands behind the counter, a comic book in his hand. Shifting his eyes over to me, he ushers for me to come to him. Hesitantly I do, my hands shaking.

"I.D.?" he asks, voice hoarse.

I quickly retrieve my driver's license from my wallet in my pocket and hand him what he asks for. His eyes lazily scan over it before handing it back and waving me away. Awkwardly, I stand there as he goes back to reading his comic book. My eyes shift over to the walls and disgust and embarrassment deepen the red on my cheeks. Male genitally line the walls, each one a different length, width, and color. Some even having painful looking nubs and ribs. I reopen the list and grimace. There's about ten different items on here, only three of the items I recognize. Turning back to the man I shyly say, "Um, excuse me?"

His eyes shift up over the comic book, an annoyed expression on his face. "D-do you have a basket or cart I can put my items into?" I stutter, a shaking hand holding up the list. The annoyance on his face gives way to confusion and setting down the comic book he asks, "Is this some sort of prank?"

"Huh? I-I'm sorry," I state, "I don't quite understand what you mean."

Holding out his hand, he motions to the paper in my hands. "You're shaking like a Chihuahua with a 'shopping list' in a sex shop. Did you lose a bet?"

I give a small nod. "Yes, you could call say that."

The employee sighs before reaching below the counter and pulling out a pink basket. In three strides he walks up to me and makes a 'gimme' motion for the list. Anxiously, I hand it over to him and watch in silence as he gathers all the materials into the container. In less than three minutes, the employee returns to the counter and I resist the urge to cover my face with my hands in shame.

"That'll be $30.04," he states and I reel back in shock.

_Sin isn't cheap I suppose_, I bitterly think handing over the black credit card.

After paying, he places the vulgar items into a black bag before handing it to me. With a 'thank you' I head out onto the streets and dash to my truck. Opening the door I throw the bag onto the passenger side floor when I hear a soft voice ask, "What are you doing?"

An undignified squeak leaves my mouth in shock and I whirl around to come face to face with Kenny. His eyes are crinkled in mirth and with a gloved hand he points to the bag.

"What ya got there Pippers?" he asks, a wide smile on his lips. I give an awkward chuckle before hopping inside, eyes still on the young man.

"Oh nothing, I just had to go out and get some things," I reply, "Why are you out here Kenny?" He shrugs.

"Had to get out of my house. Folks were having a drunken brawl again." My face falls and empathy fills my heart, the poor lad.

"Ah, don't give me the pity face," he gently laughs, "But, if you don't mind, can I get a ride home? I'm a little too tired to walk."

Without thinking I nod and scoot over to the driver's side, allowing him to climb in. Starting up the engine, my eyes fall back on the black bag and my heart freezes. Giving a sigh, I push the stick into drive and head down the street.

_Dear God, please don't let him look inside the bag._

* * *

The ride to his house is relatively quiet besides the times that he'd speak to give me directions. My fingers tightly grip the wheel as the truck crosses the train tracks, Kenny's house straight ahead. With a few bumps I pull the truck into his dirt driveway and put the car into park, a huge smile covering his face as he turns to me.

"Thanks for the ride Pippers," he softly says unbuckling his seat, "But I have to ask. What is a boy like you doing in a sex shop?"

My face pales then reddens in shame. Hands hold the leathery wheel in a death grip, my heart freezing in shock. The humiliation of being found out eating away at my pride.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I quickly retort, a bit harshly.

His smile grows and with a shrug he opens the door before stepping out. Turning to me he says, "Whatever you say Pip. Have fun with your toys."

And, with that he shuts the door and runs into his house. Leaving me to wallow in my self-made puddle of disgust and shame.

* * *

Pulling in my driveway, I turn the car off and sit silently in the seat. My eyes fall on the black bag and curiosity gnaws at me at what all lays within. With a sigh I pull it into my lap, mentally preparing myself to look inside. I've already been humiliated and shamed beyond belief, what can simply looking into the bag do now?

I open it and quickly clench it shut. Red flushes across my cheeks and I shake my head in disbelief before daring to peek back inside. Unfortunately, my eyes hold no lies. There, nestled in-between two packs of flavored lube, sits a rubber replication of the male genitally—the word 'dildo' written across the top. Closing the bag between my clenched fists, repulsion and embarrassment fill me as unwanted thoughts of what or who Damien's going to use that for flood into my mind.

_I'll never be able to look him in the eyes again._

Quickly, I open up the truck door and lock it before walking up to the front door—the black bag clenched securely in my fist. Unlocking the door, I walk inside and place the bag on the counter top, removing my hat, trench coat, and loafers to place them in their designated spots. Turning my head, I look over the couch and find Damien absent from his usual spot. Confused I call out, "Damien?"

Silence.

Worry buds to life in my mind, thoughts of someone breaking in and possibly doing him harm making me rush over to his room. "Damien?" I call, knocking the door, "Are you in there? May I come in?"

Again, I hear nothing but silence. Ignoring the rules reciting in my head on privacy, I open the door to find this room empty as well. My worry increases and with slight horror I think, _Dear God please tell me someone didn't find him here. _

Then I hear the sound of rushing water and anxiously walk over to the bathroom door. "Damien? Are you in there?"

Once again, no reply. Worry turns into fear and I rapidly bang my fist against the door. "Damien, are you alright? If this is a joke it isn't funny!"

My fear increases when all I can hear is the pit-a-patter of the shower and gripping the doorknob I give it a twist. The door slides open with no resistance, the water drops becoming clearer to my ears. Steam fills the room and I have to wave a hand in front of my face to keep from coughing. Looking towards the shower-tub I see the blurry outline of a hellish looking figure.

"D-Damien?" I softly call, "Are you alright?"

A pained groan meets my ears, his voice broken and weak. "It hurts…it fucking hurts…"

My mind reels. "What hurts? Should I get the first-aid kit?"

An inhuman growl replies and a clawed hand tears through the thin shower curtain. I stubble back in fear; lower back sharply hitting the bathroom sink. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end at the sound of the shower curtain ripping, a low growl echoing in the small titled room. My eyes widen as the shower curtain tumbles to the floor, the bar that held the curtain up snatched from its place. The once steady beating of my heart increases in pace, adrenaline starting to pump through my veins as an unrecognizable fear holds me in its grasp. Damien stands tall in the water droplets, his pale body drenched; the torn fabric laces around his claws hand, a pair of golden hued horns curving from his head and under his ears. The young man's scent washes over me like the angry sea and I begin to feel my eyes hood in response, conflicting with the growing fear that picks at the back of my mind and makes my body shake.

Without thought, my gaze racks over his lean form. Starting at his thin muscular arms down his chest and to his shallowly outlined stomach. Gulping, I turn my eyes in shame when I see the cause of his despair. The tip has turned an unhealthy shade of purple, the thick vein underneath visibly pulsing when hitting the air.

"It…fucking…hurts," he hisses taking a step out of the tub, the water slushing at his feet, "Try for hours…after you left…nothing…FUCK!"

I look back up at his face in fear as he screams, those red eyes narrowing in on me. Without a second thought I run out of the bathroom, hearing his feet pad after me. Quickly, I jump over the bed and turn, Damien stopping on the other side. A snarl grows on his face.

"Get rid…of it," he pants, "NOW!"

With some difficultly he beings to walk around the bed towards me and I stutter, "Now, D-Damien, don't be rash!"

As he lunges I jump over the bed to the other side, narrowly escaping his claws. I turn back to the devil-child, his face twisted in anger and pain. "I-I told you," I stammer as he begins to walk back over to me, "I will n-not help you with t-this. If you wait a little bit, I…I can find someone and—"

"You'll do for now."

I freeze at his words and he lunges for me. Despite trying to run across the bed again, he encloses one of my wrists in a clawed hand. His fangs show in a pained smile and in one fluid motion I'm thrown on the bed, my wrist still in Damien's strong grip. I struggle and kick, using my one free hand to try and push him away. My foot collides with his chest and with a growl the devil-child forces it down before smacking my hand off. His arm loops under my waist and thin hips press into mine, the heat of his excitement digging in-between my legs.

Groaning through clenched teeth, I try to push him off again; my nails leaving scratches on his shoulder. Cold-water droplets fall on my face and build, soaking through my pants and shirt. Contrasting sharply with the fire spreading through my veins. I shiver as he grinds his hips into mine, a gasp leaving my lips. Against my better judgment, my free arm wraps around his neck and pulls him closer, fingers digging into his tangled wet hair. His other hand lets go of my wrist and I freeze when I feel claws start to pull at the hem of my pants.

_No, no, no, no, no!_

Without thinking I shove my released hand down and grab his erection, the effects following immediate. A soft groan leaves Damien's lips as he shuts his eyes, the clawed hand around my pants shooting up into my blonde hair. My eyes widen in surprise as the demon-child arches into my touch, squishing my hand between his stomach and mine. The fire in my gut grows wilder when a soft growl echoes in his throat, mouth open in ecstasy and eyes screwed shut. The exotic look added to him by his horns and fangs both frightening and exciting.

Slowly, experimentally, I move my hand up and down the length, letting out a sudden gasp when his other hand runs up my arm and curls its finger in my hair in response. Another groan escapes his mouth through clenched teeth and pale hips begin to move on their own against my hand. Shaking, I bring up my other hand and dig my fingers softly into the others hips; pushing back a little, silently commanding for his hips to stop. He growls but surprising stills, shaking as my other hand picks up its speed. Its grip tightening as it rises to the tip. His eyelids flutter before his face digs into the nape of my neck, making me in freeze in anticipation and fear.

Curses begin to fall loosely from his lips, the heat in my hand and on my neck increasing with every word said. My grip instinctively tightens and Damien shouts, "Fuck!". His pale form shivers as all his weight falls on me, his seed coating my shirt and hand. I lay there, waiting for him to pull back and react. He never does and instead, I begin to hear snoring in my ear.

Rolling him onto the side of the bed, I scoot away and head into the kitchen. Grabbing a bunch of paper towels I wipe the semen from my hands with a scowl and throw the wads into the trash before returning to Damien's bed. His facial features have softened, relaxed from his usual snarl or sneer. As I roll him onto his back I can't help but think of him slightly…handsome when like this. My face reddens as my own prick twitches in agreement and I hastily wipe the white residue from the young man's torso. Pulling away the covers from the end of the bed, I wrap him up as best I can and head over to the bathroom; making sure to lock both entrances.

Scrunching up my nose in disgust I carefully remove the ruined red shirt and place it face up on the floor, making a mental note to throw it out later. Pulling off the rest of my clothes I throw them into the hamper, fix the shower curtain as best as I can, and step into the still running shower. I recoil and yelp at the cold temperature before quickly twisting the knob for hot water. A pleasured sigh exits my lips as warm water replaces the chilling cold when a thought comes to mind.

_How could the bathroom have been filled with steam if the water was cold?_

Shrugging my shoulders, I don't linger on this question and instead gaze down my body's own excitement. Though I'm more confused than anything. While the young man sleeping in my departed sister's room is appealing to look at, his manners and morals that I've seen exercised in the past are anything but. Still, there was a moment there when I…reacted to him as well. Humiliation wells up in my chest as I continue to think, the fact that I caved in for even just a second making me upset. With great difficulty, I silence my mind and start on washing my hair.

* * *

**A/N: Well, now that that's done and I'm as red as a tomato, I feel as if I should clear up something. I have no idea who is going to top in this story, so don't assume. And, don't ask. Just don't.**

**On another note, thank you everyone who reviewed last chapter. I hope to hear more from you little 'Ghost Readers' ;) I love hearing what you all think and like about this story. Favorites and follows are good too, but what I love best is to hear from you all. After all, it's you that I'm writing for.**

**Sorry that it's a bit short. However, I feel that this is a good place to end this chapter, and I like for each chapter to have one big point/development.**

******South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone******


	5. Chapter 5

My eyes glance back up to the kitchen clock as I sip my morning tea, the two hands reading close to 11am. Worry prickles away at the back of my mind when Damien still doesn't emerge from his room.

_I should have thoroughly dried him off before wrapping him up in those sheets, _I mentally scold myself, _What if he caught a cold?_

After the 'incident' I sat up well to midnight waiting for the demon-child to awake, my anger keeping me up better than any kind of caffeine. But as the hour ticked by I finally retired to my room thinking I 'd seen him in the morning making tea like usual. What a shock and disappointment it had been to be the first one awake. So here I sit, waiting until the noirette shows his face, a list of questions and scolds sitting patiently at the tip of my tongue.

11am gives way into 12pm and 12pm into 1pm: my slight worry grows but I stay in the den, firmly planted on the couch seat—the blanket wrapped around my shoulders. Am I being a little fickle? Yes, but I feel that I have every right to be. Having been shoved into that 'incident' last night. Good Lord, if I hadn't acted rash then…I shiver and pick up the TV remote, franticly flipping through the channels before landing on a cooking show.

It's not long until I hear a door squeak and the shuffling of bare feet. Shifting my gaze over, a drowsy but thoroughly relaxed looking demon stumbles into view. A white wife-beater shirt covers his chest, gray sweat pants hanging loosely on his hips showing off a sliver of navy blue underwear—the horns, tail, and claws from the night before gone.

"Good afternoon," I greet as he walks into the kitchen, "There's tea on the stove if you want it." Damien doesn't reply, just slowly blinks before cocking his head at the kettle. Concern flickers in my mind at his sluggish movements but I shrug and turn my attention back to the TV.

A crash abruptly echoes through the small area, and I quickly turn back around to see the demon-child looking down at the ground with a frown on his face. Whispering, "Fuck…" he places a hand on his face and slides it down to his chin before crouching down out of view. I immediately stand and walk over, quietly standing by the stove as he picks up the shattered pieces.

"Damien?" I question with a frown, "Are you alright?"

He doesn't respond and I place a hand on his shoulder to shake him awake. The reaction is immediate. Before I can even question what's wrong he harshly smacks my hand off of him and stands, the glass pieces falling to the floor.

"Don't fucking touch me," he hisses walking over to the couch, "The tea was probably fucking cold anyway."

My face falls and I sigh, crouching down to clean up the mess. Placing the pieces in the trash I walk back over to the couch, my cooking show replaced with a film about giant robot machines. Sitting as far away as I can, I turn to him and say, "Damien, we need to have a talk."

"The fuck about?"

"You," I slowly say with a shrug, "This thing. What happened last night definitely."

Black eyes snap on me, a frown on the young man's face. "Whoa, whoa, whoa," he says, holding up his hands, "Whatever the hell happened it was a one time thing. I don't do relationships."

I reel back in shock, chocking on my next words. "What? N-no! I'm not talking about anything about a relationship!"

Dark eyebrows disappear into black bangs and a confused expression forms on his face. Lowering his hands, the young man hums and strokes the bristles covering his chin and jaw before narrowing those ebony colored eyes. "Then what the hell is there to talk about?"

"Plenty. For one, why didn't you call someone over while I was away? I do NOT appreciate being jumped like that or being forced into that situation."

"Hey! You try jacking off for hours and not getting anywhere!" Damien snarls, black eyes sparking red, "Besides, I don't trust any of those bastards in my phone." My eyebrows narrow in suspicion, curiosity peaked at the statement.

"So, you think that I'm trustworthy enough then?"

Damien shrugs and turns his attention back to the TV. "Like hell you are. But, your pussy-ass self has kept me hidden for this long so the risks of you leaking out anything to the other humans about my location are nonexistence. And, you're definitely a fucking virgin-Mary so I wouldn't need to deal with any nasty surprises." Red irises gaze at me from the corner of his eye, a small chuckle leaving his lips, "F.Y.I. I'm not talking about the front."

Anger spreads through my veins and I quickly stand. Fists shake in rage, face flushed in humiliation. "How dare you," I evenly say, barely containing my temper, "How dare you talk to me that way. I am not just a thing that is here for your own amusement!"

"No. But, you are here to 'provide to my every need and desire'."

I sigh through clenched teeth, counting backwards to keep myself from acting rash. Looking over to the kitchen, my anger lessens when I see the black bag on the counter top—still untouched. Mischief enters my mind as I walk over to it and pick it up, the knowledge of what lies inside fresh in my thoughts. Looking back at the noirette on the couch I can't help but think, _How would he react if I called him out on his choice of…things?_

Ignoring the budding thoughts of how I should just let it be and how rude this is, I walk up behind the demon-child and look down on him. In slight surprise he stares back up at me, an annoyed expression covering his face. My grip on the bag tightens and without a word I hold it out in front of him.

"Here's the…items you wanted," I say, the urge to humiliate him losing it's hold as I stand before him. A sliver of guilt mixed with embarrassment snakes through my thoughts as he simply stares at me. It's not right to judge a man based on his preferences and I will not lower myself to Damien's level just to feel better.

"Awesome, wanna try them out?"

I scoff and wrench my face up in disgust at the suggestion and without waiting for him to grab the bag, let it fall from my hand onto his lap. Various sex items fall out of the bag, landing around his legs and falling to the floor. The cocky look on his face changes to shock and I hastily walk toward my bedroom. My cheeks burn red as I lock the door behind me, my pace slowing as I walk over to collapse onto my cool bed; letting out a frustrated groan into my pillow.

* * *

I silently lay there, waiting patiently for sleep as my eyelids slowly droop. My mind drifts in and out of consciousness. The semi-sleep slate making the ends of my fingers and toes numb while a buzz slowly flows through the rest of my body. Through a hazy gaze I can barely make out the time 3:46pm on my nightstand clock. With a groan I bury my head back into my pillow and wrap the blanket closer around my form.

Unexpectedly, a distant click sounds in my ears but I can't bring myself to care. It's probably just Damien fixing himself something in the kitchen. My mind falls deeper into its half-awake state, just a few more minutes and I'll really be asleep. Then a growl softly echoes in my room and I freeze. The soft pad of feet hit the floor followed by shallowly pants, my heartbeat quickening as they advance.

_How in the world Damien get into my room?_

Ignoring my need to turn around and alert him to my awakened stated, I silently listen as he comes to a halt beside my bed. For a few moments everything is perfectly still, then my bed begins to shake. With a sudden twitch I open on my eyes to see the devil-child kicking my mattress, a scowl on his face.

"Quit pretending to be sleeping fucker," Damien states as he continues to kick the bed, "Get up. I'm hungry." Stifling a groan, I sit up and narrow my eyes at the demon-child, my form shaking with the mattress.

"Go and fix yourself something then. And, stop kicking the mattress! You're gonna push it off the frame!" The scowl turns into a cocky smile but his barefoot gives one finally kick before setting itself back on the ground.

"I'm hungry," he repeats, his stomach letting out a soft growl.

_So that's what I heard earlier. _

Rolling my eyes I push the covers off and get out of bed, annoyed and still half-asleep. "Why don't you just fix yourself some cereal or eat one of your nasty vegetables? I'm trying to sleep. How did you get in here anyway?"

Without missing a beat he points to the open bathroom door.

"It's your turn to cook," Damien continues, "I cooked all yesterday."

"You made us tea, bowls of cereal, and microwave TV dinner trays," I retort, "That's not cooking."

"At least I made something you sorry ass, and if you don't like what I make then you can do all the fucking cooking."

With a frustrated groan, I shake my head and walk towards my door. Unlocking it, I turn to the devil behind me and ask, "What do you want to eat?" A sinister smile grows on his face, those oddly placed fangs peeking over pink lips. "And, don't say 'your beating heart'," I quickly cut in, causing his smile to fall, "Pick an actual meal."

Damien rolls his eyes but answers, "Vegetable soup."

I wince. "Fine. But only you'll be eating it, and if there are any leftovers then you will eat those till they're gone."

The young man blankly stares at me in reply and, taking that as a yes, I head over to the kitchen and pull out the biggest pot I own. Gathering a can of chicken broth from the cabinet, I place it on the counter next to the pot before pulling out an assortment of vegetables from the fridge. Truthfully I don't know how to make vegetable soup but it can't be any harder than making chicken soup.

After dicing the necessary amount of vegetables, I place them into the pot and dump in the chicken broth before bringing it over to the sink to fill with just a few cups of water. With a heave, I place it on the hot-eye and set the temperature to high before throwing in a little salt and pepper. I place a lid over it before walking over to the den where Damien sits wrapped in the couch blanket watching a very crude color paper animated cartoon.

My feet stop mid-step when I see a colorful assortment of sex toys littering the floor and covering half of my couch, making my face flush red.

"W-why are those items still on my floor?" Damien slightly jumps at my voice, his black eyes rapidly blinking as his mind shifts back into reality from the TV.

"What?"

I sigh and point down at the floor. The young man looks around at the items, his head turning this way and that. As if just noticing they were lying around where he sat. "What the hell do you mean?" he asks, looking back up at me, "You're the fucker who put them here. Not me."

Reeling back in shock I retort, "They are you're things. Not. Mine. So, please, put them up."

A scowl covers his face at my words as he turns back to the TV. "I didn't spill them."

Gritting my teeth, I huff and grab the black bag off the couch and forcibly begin shoving the items back into the plastic container. I work quickly, trying not to let my eyes linger on any particular object. Unfortunately, quite a few leave me baffled and thus sparking my curiosity. Between my thumb and forefinger hangs a pair of cuffs, covered in pink fuzz.

"Those are fuzzy cuffs," Damien suddenly speaks, black eyes turning red—his fangs showing in his cocky smile. Without replying I throw them into the bag along with a few bottles of flavored lube before picking up a strange knobbed ring.

"That is a cock ring. The little gem-holder looking thing on top is the on and off switch."

I swiftly throw it into the bag and sarcastically remark, "Charming."

Placing the rest of the items back into the bag, I stand back up and scan the area when my eyes fall on a line of purple plastic beads. Scrunching my eyebrows together I hunch over to pick it up and hold it up to the dim light.

_A small bracelet?_

"Those are anal beads," the demon behind me says with a laugh and I throw them into the bag in disgust. Turning back to him, I hold out the bag.

"Here. Now, please, go put them…up…"

My words falter when I see the small horns pronouncing from behind Damien's ears. While not as big as the night before, they noticeably peek out from the black hair. As he reaches out to take the bag I notice the black-clawed ends forming on his nails. His fingers brush against mine as he grabs the bag and I snatch my hand back. Shocked by the warmth his skin radiates from just a simple accidental touch.

"Did I burn you?" he immediately asks, his voice absent of the usual mocking tone. I shake my head. "Fuck yea, then I'm not far off enough just yet."

"'Far off enough'?" I ask, "What do you mean? And…why are there horns growing on your head?"

Standing up to my height he shrugs. "Fuck if I know, but the more aroused I get the bigger they get. Funny huh? And, here's the best part, the longer I ignore the need to fuck the warmer my body becomes. Take last night for instant. If I hadn't been in that cold shower you would be a matted lump of boils and charred skin today."

Horror covers my face and Damien chuckles. "Let's hope these fucking toys work better than my hand," he says, jingling the black plastic bag before walking away down the short hallway and into his room. I stand there, mortified and shocked—the new information setting me on edge.

A hiss rings throughout the air and I quickly turn towards the kitchen. The pot bubbles and boils over as I run over to it. Picking up the metal handle with an oven-mitt and setting it on a cool hot-eye. Turning the red metal's temperature off, I lift up the lid and scowl. While the soup is fine, just a little too hot, I feel miffed.

_I made the devil's soup and he isn't even going to eat…_

* * *

**A/N: Sorry this is really, really short but next chapter contains mature themes and I personally hate it when sexual content is in every chapter of a legit story (smut stories are another matter as they're not usually written for plot). And, I figured this was a big point to understanding this whole 'heat' thing for you guys. Don't worry, because this one is so short the next chapter will be up sooner.**

**Also, thank you everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed this story last chapter. I hope to hear even more from you guys. But now I'm off to cry my eyes out. That finale of the game The Walking Dead: Season 2 has left me a wreck.**

********South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone********


	6. Chapter 6

My eyelids flutter, the dark of the night filling my sight as a cool, wet sensation tickles the back of my neck. I let out a groan in discontent.

_Is the roof leaking again?_

The thought, however, soon drifts away like leaves in the breeze. The realm of sleep lulling me back into its clutches as my eyes finally close. The familiar comforting scent of my pillows and sheets surrounds me as I curl up tighter in them, their soft touch holding a slight chill from the nighttime air. Another sweet scent tickles my nose and I inhale deeply before sinking deeper into the mattress, finding it relaxing and helping to calm my thoughts.

As I begin to dream another droplet of water falls on the back of my neck. I let out a groan and shuffle forward, promising myself to deal with whatever it is tomorrow. Then something warm creeps over my arm and wrist, curling to wrap around my side like a snake. Dazed, my eyes flutter open as my arm is raised over my head. My numbed mind wonders at the sudden movement, puzzled and trying to remember why I was moving my arm.

Something soft slowly touches my wrists and I jerk back on instinct, a sentence of curses making my eyes snap open. I snatch my arm away, my balled fist connecting with something fleshy and solid, the curses rising in volume and sharpening in tone. I wrench the soft fuzz coated item hanging loosely from my wrist, bolting upright to gaze to the object in the little bit of moonlight that pierces through the dark. I freeze, the blood draining from my face.

_It's the cuffs… _

A low growl meets my ears and hesitantly I turn to come face-to-face with a pair of glowing red eyes. The glow from them sharpens the angles of the young man's face, illuminating the pair of golden horns that curl around his head and ears. Water droplets cling to his black hair, pasting the dark locks to his pale skin—the drops cascading over his chin, neck, collarbones, and arms, covering every inch of him that I can see. A humorless smile reveals the fangs underneath and slowly Damien says, "The toys didn't fucking work."

He lunges and on instinct I kick out, hitting him square in the chest. The counterattack momentarily stops the young man but soon I feel sharp claws digging into my trouser leg—scratching at my skin. I tighten my grip around the cuffs in my hand on reflex, my skin sensing the sudden breeze through the rips in the cotton pants for only a second before I'm pulled forwards by two hands on my hips. Damien's pelvis digs into mine, a satisfied groan leaving his lips at the contact. I quickly lunge forward.

My forehead collides with his in an explosion of pain and I cry out from the unexpected contact. The young man falls back a few inches in response, his hands lifting up to cradle the injury as a hiss leaves his lips. I reach out, using his moment of disorientation to snap the cuffs on his wrist without a second thought, hastily connecting the other end to one of the poles on my chair-back bedframe. Red eyes open and narrow down at me as the metal clicks into place, his lips pulling back in a snarl. With a growl, he lashes out with his free hand, and I jump off the bed and run to my light switch.

Switching it on, I look back over to the bed, my chest rising and falling in short pants from the sudden attack. Damien twists and pulls at the cuffs on his right hand, face twisted in frustration. Red eyes snap over to me. "Let me go. NOW."

I frantically shake my head. "I…I don't t-think that'd be a…a g-good idea."

The demon howls and pulls at the cuffs again. My eyes widen in fear as the metal robs of the bedframe begin to bend. All thought vanishes from my mind as his voice lowers to an otherworldly tone, the vibrance of it making my heart skip a beat. I rush out my room into the den, slamming the door behind me. For countless minutes, he snarls and growls from within my room. His howls matching those only heard in my darkest nightmares, rising and lowering in a wide-range of octaves as the words that roll of his tongue echo off the walls.

Then suddenly, everything is silent. My heartbeat races and I pause in my pacing in the den. With weary eyes I glance down the hallway towards my room, my thoughts slowly returning as I ponder on this new development. He's a devil, a demon, not of this world. Could some cuffs stop him? Most likely not. I begin to shake. What if he's broken free?

I hesitantly take a step towards the hell, gathering my courage when all remains quiet. Slowly, I walk back to the door to my room, hand hovering over the doorknob. He could be waiting just on the other side, waiting for an opportunity to attack. I shake my head of the thought, and, taking a deep breath to steel my nerves, I twist open the metal handle and walk in.

Damien sits slouched against the frame, the metal rod the cuff is attached to pulled to the side. His shoulders shake, the shadows of the room hiding his face from sight. Cautiously I take a few steps to his side. He doesn't even move as I advance towards him, my feet stopping just a foot away from the bed. "A-are you calm now, Damien?"

His head sharply turns, those red eyes tearing into me. Water droplets still cling to his skin, rolling down taunt muscles and seeming to glisten in the little moonlight that invades my room through the blinds. My eyes absentmindedly roam down the young man's fit form and I wince at the shade of purple his arousal holds.

"…it hurts…"

My face falls in concern at the pained tone of his voice. Should…should I call for someone? But, who? And, with what? I don't own a phone and…well, I suppose there is Damien's but…

My thoughts are cut off by a low hiss from the young man, and I scrap my feet against the wood as I inch towards him; regretting each step I take. His face twists and pale shoulders start to shake. Those eyes watch me intently, unblinking as I come closer.

"D-do you want me to call someone?"

Damien's face scrunches in displeasure at the question, a low rumble rising from his throat. Lips pulling back as he screams, "NO!"

Again, the devil-child begins pulling at the cuffs. The thick metal chain groans with the bent bedframe post as it's stretched, and I jump back as he continues to pull at the furniture, hoping to God that it won't snap. The black claws seem to grow as he digs the talons into my sheets. The sound of ripping fabric meets my ears and I pale as I watch the scene unfold.

Nerves set on edge; I hastily try to come up with a solution to end this. And, as I weigh the consequences of calling someone from his phone for help a thought comes to mind: I could end it. I shake idea from my mind. It's absurd. It…it wouldn't be right. I'm neither interested in him nor am I going to pursue anything further with him. It's not fair to either of us.

I gaze down at the struggling young man. _But, it works._

I shake my head in discontent, trying to think of another solution. He's fairly attractive; surely he's got a number stashed away on his phone for this sort of thing. Quite a few of our classmates do, perhaps…but, what would happen afterwards? Eric will send me to the hospital for sure because I didn't tell him and if word gets out…

Damien's fighting slows and my heart falls at this pitiful display. _Just one more time, _I think,_ I'll help him out just one more time._

Letting out a shaky sigh I say, "Do not attack me alright?"

Without waiting for a reply, I crawl onto the mattress and kneel beside him—our face just a few inches from each other. Red eyes watch me cautiously and I swiftly advert my gaze towards the ceiling. I timidly reach out, my fingers wrapping around the swollen length. Damien lets out a choked sigh in momentary relief. Shame whispers words and sentences of misconduct in my ears as I move my hand up and down, his sounds of pleasure and scent stirring up a fire in my lower gut. Damien's free arm wraps around my lower back as my hand works, pulling me across the sheets and flushed against his form. Pressing his need against mine.

Red eyes hood over and a smirk forms on his panting lips. Without warning, the warm hand on my back slithers over to my front. Diving into my pajama bottom and wrapping around my rising cock. My teeth and eyes clench shut in both shock and slight pleasure, my other hand grabbing his free wrist.

"No," I firmly hiss through clenched teeth.

The grip I have on his length stills and tightens as his hand slowly moves up mine, elongated claws gently scrapping against my inner thigh and his thumb rubbing over the head.

"Why?" he pants, "You…it's there…fuck…give in."

"No," I repeat pulling his grip away, "It's…not right." A small chuckle echoes in my ears, my eyelids becoming hooded by his sure voice and pleasurable scent.

"Give i-in."

The clawed hand pulls down the pajama bottom hem, sudden warmth racing through my veins as Damien presses our bare arousals together. He slips his wrist from my grip to intertwine his hand with my still one, the long digits encircling our erections in a delightful mixture of heat. I bite my lip as our hands begin to move, stifling a moan. Pants and curses fill my ear, a small desire to do as he says floating through my scrambled thoughts. But, reluctantly, I wrench his grip away with my free hand and pin it to his side; pulling my hips away from his.

His face presses into the nape of my neck as I pick back up the rhythm, a groan of frustration leaving my lips as a slow white heat curls in my gut. Begging for release. His spin arches and pale hips begin to rock into mine, breath coming out in short pants. My left hand lets go of his wrist and slides up, fingers digging into the short black locks on the back of his head. Slowly, I pull him away from my neck and press his nose to mine. Our hooded gazes lock and he stills. Then, abruptly, red eyes shut close and hot breath falls on my lips as he softly curses, "…fuck…" The buildup inside of me explodes and all I can see is white.

Slowly, my mind comes down from it's high, the afterglow of orgasm leaving my shirt and lower regions sticky and wet. But, I can't seem to bring myself to care. Damien's eyes droop close and I softly ask, "Where's the cuff key?"

But, he doesn't reply and falls out of my grip onto the bed, faint snores meeting my ears. Exhausted, I lie down beside him and pull the covers over our forms. My eyelids flutter, and as I'm struck with the need to pull him close I fall asleep.

* * *

_Warm…it's so warm…_

My eyes flutter open; the sunlight rays that make their way in through the blinds on the window making me scrunch my eyebrows in displeasure. I blink the sleep away from my sight, still feel tiring but oddly satisfied. Black locks enter my vision and I make a small grunt in confusion as I slowly rise from the land of sleep. My mind trying to process this odd pit of visual information until my visions clears and I see a very irritated devil glaring at me. Opening my eyes wide in shock, an awkward smile forms on my lips; my cheeks turning red as I remember last night events. The evidence long since dried between our hips, making my skin itch.

"G-good morning, Damien," I awkwardly greet.

He rolls his eyes. "Key is on my dresser. Go get it asshole."

A cold foot suddenly presses against my stomach and, before I can react, he kicks me off the edge of the bed. With a yelp my back collides with the wooden floor, knocking the breath out of me as shots of pain scamper up and down my back and head. I groan and slowly stand up, turning narrowed eyes towards my rude bedmate.

"That was completely unnecessary."

The devil shoos me away with his hand in reply and with a huff I head over to the bathroom door, walking through into Damien's makeshift room. Rummaging through the obscure magazines on the dresser—though being careful not to let my eyes linger on the vile things—I find a small key and quickly return to my room. But, after opening the bathroom door leading into my room I pause and feel my heart leap into my throat.

Narrowed black eyes shoot up at me, his hair unkempt and sticking up in the oddest of places. The plain blue covers from my bed have been thrown off, revealing his disheveled state. Choppy rays of light pierce through the plastic blinds into the darkness of the room, illuminating different area of his body. Creating a sharp beautiful contrast as the rest of his form remains hidden in the shadows. My eyes pinpoint on the patch of black curls running down his stomach and below, a white residue coating the fine hairs and the upper part of his right thigh. Shame waves over me as I turn my eyes away, a mixture of confusing pride making my heart swell.

Damien grunts in frustration and pulls on the cuff, the chain raddling against the bent metal pole and snapping me out of my thoughts. Hastily, I walk over and unlock the cuff from his wrist and from my bed. The young man widely grins and rubs the red wrists; purple bruises forming on the flesh. Guilt shoots through my mind; immediately stomped down as I remember those marks could have easily been on my wrists this morning.

"Did you really have to try to cuff me to the bed last night?" I ask, miffed about the whole thing.

"Does it matter? In the end it fucking backfired, but I'm sure that you know what needs to happen now."

My face falls in confusion. "What?"

A bitter laugh leaves his lips and slowly the devil says, "My hand doesn't fucking work. The toys didn't fucking work but, this does. Think about it."

My eyes widen as he speaks and furiously I shake my head in disagreement. "No. We are not courting nor planning on it. We don't even like each other! It wouldn't be right of us to indulge in such lewd activities."

"Then what the hell was last night, Pippers? A fucking tea party?"

Shame fills my heart, weighing it down like lead. Cheeks flushing red as I turn my gaze away. "Last night…was a mistake. I should not have done that…or let you take it that far..."

"A mistake?" Damien quietly mocks, "Well, that's too fucking bad. You agreed to this. Told Satan yourself that you'd be responsible for me."

"Yes but I did not agree to participate in immortal acts with you!"

A low growl echoes in Damien's throat and I hastily stumble back. The demon lunges and harshly pins me against the wall. His clawed hands dig into my nightshirt, tearing the collar to shreds as his bare hips hold mine in place—face nose-to-nose with mine. Bright red eyes bore into my green ones; smoke tainted breath mixing with that alluring scent.

"Who the fuck do you think I am?" he hisses, "I am the Prince of Darkness, son of the fallen! What the hell did you think you were getting into you goody two-shoes?"

My anger rises and evenly I retort, "Why me? Why do I have to do 'that' with you? Call up one of your charming friends. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to help you out with your problem."

"I don't want them!" he screams, "They're nothing but a bunch of motherfuckers who can't keep their mouths shut and run with their dicks out." His chest heaves as he deeply breathes and I'm left in shock. Clawed fingers clench tighter on my ripped shirt collar and slowly the devil continues, "You know how to keep your mouth shut. You uphold your morals. While it's fucking annoying how prime and proper you can be, you won't sell me out and use me. I can trust you."

His hands fall from my shirt and with a deep sigh the demon takes a step back. "Do you think I want this? I can't fucking control myself and draw out the sickest bastards out there. Plus, I'm fucking cooped up all day, unable to go outside for fear of what'll happen to me if the wrong people find me. A couple of them, bring it on but even I can be outnumbered."

My face falls and guilt sweeps through me. I hadn't even thought about how he would be affected by this. "Damien, I'm sorry. I thought…I…"

"You thought I was fucking dandy with it didn't you?" the noirette huffs, "Not a fucking surprising conclusion."

I'm left speechless by his statement, the truth cutting into me like a sharp knife. Damien sighs in frustration and runs clawed fingers through his black hair, a tired expression softening his face. "Go get a shower. You stink of cum and you're late for class."

* * *

Anxiety gnaws at me as the clock slowly ticks on the library wall. The sound seeming to echo off the white walls with such volume I'm surprised I've never noticed it before. But no matter how much I focus on it or the book in my hands, my thoughts keep drawing me back to the demon sitting in my house. He didn't even make tea for us while I was in the shower and was wrapped up in my bed sheets when I left. He's definitely upset and I know I'm at fault—his earlier confessions shaking me to my core. I hadn't thought he minded what was currently happening with him, figuring that because it was a natural occurrence for his kind during the peak of their immoral acts it'd be welcomed with open arms.

Honestly, I was—and still am—afraid of coming home to him and perhaps one or more strangers in my house during this week. Now though, it just seems so silly for me to think that. Damien certainly holds emotions like any normal human being, despite them being, at times, a little twisted and him holding different morals. There have even been instances where we can get along, though the calm lasts for about as long as Damien can keep his mouth shut. Maybe I should pay more attention to insure his well-being. Though, I really do wish he would call someone to handle him during this heat.

Pushing away _Games of Thrones_ I sigh and lay on my head in my folded arms. It's improper for me to…sate him but he's reluctant to let anyone else try. A hiss leaves my lips as last night plays through my mind, the images and recollection at bit fuzzy from the suddenness of it all but the familiar desire awakening in my gut—filling me with guilt. In truth, I've never considered someone's gender to be a deciding factor in my attractiveness to him or her. Instead I find both equally beautiful, each with their own advantages and disadvantages. But…to participate in such acts without any emotional attachment just doesn't settle right with me. My desires and morals stand at opposing sides, the tension like a coiled spring. If this keeps up one day it's going to break and I know it won't be morals that win.

With a sigh I push the thoughts from my mind and instead focus on how to right the wrong I did this morning.

* * *

**A/N: Well, I figured I'd start off this chapter with a bang. ;)**

**Thank you everyone who reviewed last chapter! I really do love hearing from you all. What you liked and what you loved, or what you thought was off and such. I like to hear it all. :D (Favorites and Follows are awesome too though)**

**Meant to put this up sooner but I did a quick scan of it a couple of days ago and dang did it need some editing. Seriously. Had to close my laptop quite a few times to avoid my nosy lover peeking on what I was doing too. Love em but there are just some things I'm not ready to share.**

**********South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone******  
****


	7. Chapter 7

The truck putters to a stop in the driveway, the lawn around it a collection of mush, water, and dying patches of weeds. I sigh and sink into the worn leather seat, the material cool against the back of my head and neck. My grip on the steering wheel becoming lax as I glance at the font door of the house, dreading what might lie inside. This whole thing has become nothing but a growing pain in my backside. But, I can't toss the young man out. Not yet, anyway. I never thought I'd miss the routine quiet I once had, but I suppose, if I'm honest, this isn't the kind of excitement I'd want either.

I rub my temple, trying to diminish the forming headache. I'll have to go in eventually. Face the demon in the house. Thinking up some encouraging words to myself I reach out and grip the door handle when the front door abruptly opens. Damien quickly exits the house and slams the door shut behind him, a red hoodie clinging to his form and covering his face. Casual jeans hang off his hips, flaring around the ankles and halfway hiding the gray tennis shoes on his feet.

I sit there, frozen and dumb folded as he walks over to the truck and opens the door to the passenger seat. The demon climbs inside without a word, buckling up before throwing the hoodie off his face.

"Start up the car dumbass. You're taking me out to eat."

Too shocked to do anything else, I do as he says and the truck springs to life at the turn of the key. Checking the road for incoming traffic, I swiftly backup before shifting gears and heading down the street. The ride is silent as we pass the neighborhood houses and head into town—the streets nearly bare. But, I know that once 5 o'clock hits and almost everyone is let out from their 9-5 workday it'll be a different scene entirely. The silence between us becomes unnerving as I drive through the different streets with no destination in mind, my fingers beginning to drum against the steering wheel to create some kind of distraction. I wrack my brain for any sort of conversation starter or detail to banter about but can only manage, "So chap, where do you want to eat?"

"T.G.I. Friday's, but we can't fucking eat there."

I narrow my brow in confusion at his spiteful tone. "Why not?"

Despite keeping my eyes on the road I can feel his eyes on me, the intensity of them slightly shocking. As if he's burning me with them alone. His scent begins to thicken in the small-contained space and a look of realization forms on my face—the aroma triggering memories I'd rather box away. Shifting to sit straighter in the seat and turning on the air conditioner to better circulate the air I say, "We can still do take-out from there if that's what you want."

Peeking out of the corner of my eye, I see that his intense look has faded but, still, he doesn't reply. I sigh. "I can't read minds Damien."

Silence. With a shrug I let it drop, turning the corner towards the main heart of the town's business streets. Then, after a few moments, I hear him snort. "Smart ass. Call T.G.I.F. I'm starving."

* * *

We sit in silence for twenty minutes outside the restaurant waiting for our order to be done. Twenty minutes ticked away to thirty and without a word I exit the truck to grab our meal. Damien hadn't spoken for a while and truthfully it slightly bothers me. He's always had an opinion, something to voice and say.

The hostess inside sends me a cheerful smile as I enter and with a few exchanged words I'm sent over to the pick-up counter. Paying for the meal I quickly exit to find the truck surrounded by three big dogs, all pawing at Damien's door. I swiftly run to the driver's side and open the door to jump inside, quickly shutting it when one of the dogs tries to jump in with me. The mutts paw and bark at us through the doors, shaking the truck with each thud. Giving Damien the pick-up orders I turn on the truck and—careful not to hit the dogs—begin to drive down the street.

"What is it with you and dogs?" I ask.

Damien shrugs. "Probably because I'm in this fucking heat. Damn flea bitters."

I pause. Trying to decipher the statement. "What do you mean?"

He sighs and sends me an aggravated look. "Mommy wasn't human. Mommy was a bitch," he explains, "Thus I attract them as well. Demons in heat usually screw anything that moves. You're lucky I'm able to keep it in my pants most of the time."

I coil back in shock. "Wait…what?"

Damien groans. "As long as what we're fucking has a uterus it can bear our child. Glad you have a dick now, huh?"

Baffled beyond words I simply nod and return my focus to the road. This new information is quite…unnerving. Why would Satan…with a dog of all things? How was Damien born then? How come he looks human? My face pales. Would be doing those 'things' with him be considered bestiality? Oh dear Lord…

Glancing out of the corner of my eye I see Damien staring outside the window. His face seemingly pressed against it, his arms dangling limply as his hands are pushed against the glass. A small smirk quirks the end of my lips and I press the button for his window down. Damien gives a slight jump at the sudden movement. The rushing winds creating a whistle in my ears. I move my eyes back to the road and hear him say, "You're a fucking bitch."

The whistling becomes muffled and I have to hold in a laugh when I glance back at him. His arms are folded as he leans against the open window, his black hair flaying in the wind and eyes closed; a rare content look on his face.

_I wonder how deep that dog runs in him?_

My smile widens as my attention turns back to the road. Entertaining thoughts and scenes playing in my mind.

* * *

The sun begins to set as the truck comes to a puttering stop, the gravel letting out a soft crunch as the tires roll over it. I lean further back into the leather seat as I turn off the car, my muscles relaxing as the warmth from the sunset creeps into the car. The warm colors painting the surrounding trees in a mixture of dull orange and gold; reflecting off the lake with a soft glow. Glancing at the corner of my eye I glance at the young man beside me. While Damien hadn't said it I'm sure he doesn't want to go back home just yet, so, instead, I drove us to the lake instead. No one comes out here because school is still in and the weather outside is definitely not good for camping yet, thus no one will become affected by his…condition.

"Can you pass me the top box, please?" I ask, stirring the young man from his half-asleep state. Wordlessly he hands it to me before stretching. Despite my resolve I find myself watching intently and feel a slighter flicker in my gut as his pink tongue runs over those lips, his scent rising over the aroma of the food and teasing my nose.

"Why the hell did we come here?" he asks, opening his meal and digging in.

I shrug and twirl the spaghetti around my fork. "Figured you'd like to come outside for a bit. Since you've been inside for so long."

The demon-child hums in response and places the food on the dashboard before gripping the ends of his jacket and pulling it over his head. His black shirt underneath rises up with it, showing off the pale skinned abdomen underneath. The plastic fork in my hand falls limp as I gaze at him. In the soft glow of the sun I can make out the tone stomach and where the dents form on his ribcage; the black coarse hair on his chest drawing my eyes down to the hem of his jeans. Clearing my throat I force my gaze forward towards the lake and eat a few bites of my meal.

"So, what was your mom?" I ask, desperate for any kind of conversation now.

"A bitch," he replies, throwing his jacket into the backseat, "Already said that."

I sigh and take another bite of food from my foam tray. "I meant, what kind of dog."

Damien pauses and hums. I continue to eat as he shuffles with something before a picture is shoved in my face. Setting the meal down in my lap I take the picture and, though I know it's a dog, still am shocked. A very-happy looking Doberman looks up at me from the picture. It's pink tongue out and ears perked. A pink collar hangs around its neck the words 'Lacy' engraved in the metal bone tag, her stomach swollen, assumingly with Damien.

"Dad took that picture of her right before I came out," the young man beside me says, "According to Dad, he had to bring her down to hell for a C-section but she didn't survive. I had caused too much strain on her other organs."

I nod and turn towards the young man. "You mother is a very, um, pretty looking dog. Er, was your father, well…you know?"

Damien huffs and lets out a hardy laugh, his deep tone sending a shiver up my spine. "Hell no! She just happened to be nearby when the mood struck," he explains plucking the picture out of my hands and pocketing it, "He's damn ashamed of it actually. Made dating hell for him when I was little cause I would just blurt it out to his fuck toys."

"I see."

He shrugs and begins to dig into the burger and fries, not being civil at all with his manners. I grimace at the revolting display.

_The least he could do is close his mouth while chewing. _

We continue our meal in silence and once done I place my empty tray in the backseat. Damien still continues to eat and my attention falls on his ears. A sudden thought coming to mind—a very dangerous one at that.

_Don't dogs like their ears to be scratched? _

I hum and clench my hands together in my lap, weighing the possible outcomes. Either he won't care or he will, and if he does then I best have a very good reason. Damien lets out a content sigh and closes the now empty tray, placing it down by his feet. The demon's eyes close as he leans back in the sit, slouching down to where his knees connect to the dashboard. A mischievous smile grows on my lips and I reach out my hand. It's quickly gripped in a steel-like grasp, the pale hand making pain shoot up my wrist and arm. My breathing hitches at the sudden movement and Damien's eyes open to reveal their irises to be red.

"Don't fucking start shit you aren't man enough to finish," he hisses, tightening his grip further. I flinch and let out a pained groan.

"S-sorry. Please let go?"

A wicked smile forms on his lips at my question. Without breaking his gaze from mine, his other hand disappears behind the side of the seat. A sharp click meets my ears and his seat scoots back, pulling my arm with him. Forcing me to turn slightly and hang over the center glove box and gears to stop my arm from being pulled into an awkward angle.

"Let go?" he mocks letting out a quiet chuckle, "I don't think so."

Damien heaves my arm towards him, pulling me closer and making my legs sprawl across the glove box and driver's seat. His free hand grabs the back of my head, warm fingers digging into the blonde hair and tugging me towards his face. A sliver of fear shoots through me at the intense stare—those red eyes burrowing into my own. My eyes quickly glance away and I freeze when I see the golden hue of the emerging horns.

"Well, seems you have to make a quick decision here Pippers," Damien states, bringing me nose-to-nose with him, "Either you can let me fuck you now or you can run away and once I catch you I can fuck you then. Which is it going to be?" Anger ignites in my veins, the sudden urge to punch him in the groin making my hands clench into fists around his black shirt.

"Why do you always go after me?" I counter feeling slightly bold, "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're interested."

The demon pauses, his red eyes widening in shock before sharply narrowing—the sweet musky scent growing in strength and making my head start to swim. "Think pretty highly of yourself don't ya," he hisses showing me a toothy smile, "Come on. Let's have some fun."

Without a second thought I push away, Damien letting go of my wrists with ease. His laugh echoes in my ears as I scramble for the door handle and jump outside. My feet breaking into a run as soon they meet the ground, years of running from bullies giving me both the practice and muscles to escape. Running into the forest I hear him exclaim, "Second choice it is!"

A loud thud comes from the truck and panic begins to surge through my mind. I don't dare look back as I run, his heavy footsteps like thunder to my ears—the promise of the dangerous whirlwind of a brewing storm coming my way. With little difficulty I jump over the fallen debris of logs and short bushes before dashing onto the lakeshore. The rocks crunch under my feet, the water trapped in-between the stones soaking through my shoes.

Something clatters behind me, the sound of hundreds of rocks moving like sand meeting my ears. I can hear him gaining up on me, shortening the distance between us. Soon I can begin to hear his labored breathing, feel those black claws scratching lightly against my back. Damien lets out a short laugh, and suddenly I'm pushed—my balance gone. On instinct my arms come out in front of me, acting to cushion my fall. With a painful smack I hit the dull colored stoned and slide a few inches across the wet surface, the wind knocked out of my lungs.

Coughing, I stumble to stand before two warm hands harshly grab my shoulders and twist me around. I freeze at the other's gaze. Not a bit of white is left in those eyes, every inch consumed in a hellfire red, the glow from them casting the young man's face in harsh shadows. With a wide smile he leans over and grabs a fist full of my blond hair, yanking me up to meet him face-to-face.

"You're mine now, bitch."

I push at his shoulders, my shoes digging into the loose ground. Trying to gain some leverage to dart away. But, before I can even shove the devil-child away, Damien's hand grips at my jeans. The black claws tearing through the worn fabric like knives. Leaving nothing but strands of fabrics behind, exposing my right thigh and more. Fear shoots through my body, shocking my heart to jumpstart. The devil lets out a cruel laugh at my shivering state, the black-clawed hand continuing to pull at the torn clothe.

"You really are a secret little whore aren't you? Calling me uncouth and yet not even wearing any fucking underwear. Almost as if—"

"D-do not f-f-force yourself upon me!"

He pauses, my bravo catching the young man momentarily off guard. As his features narrow and turn grim I continue, "Y-you still own m-me a wish or, or, or a…a promise, yes? Without any strings attached. That's what I want. For you to not force yourself on me, please."

The anger grows on the other male's face, his fist clenching at my clothes and shaking with hidden wrath. Abruptly, Damien lets go and stands. His face never softening as he stomps over towards the lake and suddenly collapses into the water. Steam rolls off of him. Letting out a muffled hiss as it rises through the air. I stay seated, too shaken up to move. But, as the devil-child continues to lie there unmoving I softly call out, "D-Damien? Are you all right?"

The noirette doesn't answer and instead rolls over to where his back is face up with the sky. Tiny bubbles rushing up from the water where his face is embedded. I immediately jump at the action, holding up my pants as best I can before hurrying over. Despite his earlier actions I can't allow him to drown. Not only because it wouldn't be right but I do not want an upset and angry Satan on my case.

The water splashes wildly around me as I skid down to sit beside him. But as soon as I touch his shoulders to turn him over, the young man jumps up—a growl rising from his throat. I freeze at the sudden change, expecting him to attack me. Instead though, Damien just sits there.

The lake's waves gently lapping at our submerged lower halves. His body beginning to lightly shake, hands digging into the rocks and mud underneath him. Those bright red eyes still on me, face twisted up in hidden rage.

"Damien?" I call out again, "Please say something?"

But, he remains silent. My eyes cascade down his wet form, noting how the black shirt sticks slick to the lean muscles like a second skin. The water droplets falling from the ends of his damp hair like raindrops; a red blush warming my cheeks when I notice the evidence of his current…predicament. I hastily look away.

"…Um, thank you for doing as I wish, uh…" My words trail off, unsure of what to say, the awkwardness of the situation feeling me with unease. A low growl makes me snap my gaze back towards Damien; his form now slouched as his brow scrunches in pain.

"Does it really hurt that much? So soon?" Damien slowly nods in reply. A sigh leaves my lips and I run a watery hand down my face, trying to calm my nerves. I suppose I have no choice here. Not if I want to keep him from running off to find some other poor soul. With a flick of my wrist, I beckon the other male towards me saying, "I'll take care of it for now. But no funny business."

The noirette wastes no time in closing the distance between us. One of his arms wrapping around my neck while the other guides my right hand to the top button of his jeans. A groan leaves the young man as the button is undone and fastener unzipped, his red eyes closing as he leans his forehead against mine; the scent surrounding him becoming more prominent and sparking fire in my loins.

Words of another language fall from his tongue as my hand moves along his cock. The heat from his body and the feel of his fingers running through my blond hair making my eyelids hood over. The almost otherworldly language he whispers becoming the beckoning call of temptation, my sense and logical thought slipping away. Without thinking, I bring up my free hand to the damp locks on the back of his neck. Combing my fingers through it before gripping it harshly and pushing my lips to his neck. A small thought tugs at the back of my mind but I can't bring myself to care. Instead, continuing to taste the pale skin until Damien's breathing hitches.

A soft curse fills my ears before warmth covers my hand. His body falling lax in my arms as my senses return. I grimace at the white residue on my hand, my own prick twitching as the hormones rage. Damien's eyes flicker shut and I hastily talk to try to keep him awake. But my words fall deaf on his ears and soon soft snores fill the twilight air. I stay there as the remaining light of the day fades away, the sleeping devil still in my arms. My choice on how to handle this unique situation made.

_If I'm going to do this, I'm going to at least go the right way about it._

* * *

I'll admit that perhaps I was a little mad at the devil last night after he fell into a deep sleep. Leaving me to carry him to the car, drive both of us back home, and then carry him into the house—his limp form not making the already difficult task even harder. Perhaps I was even slightly miffed that I was left unsatisfied, despite my own denial that I didn't need it. Maybe this slight irritation continued and grew when I woke up to him making tea. The young man having the gall to not even bring up yesterday's incident and telling me to hush when I tried.

This in turn making me leave early without even telling Damien and not stopping in my walk till I was in the car—even when he physically grabbed ahold of my jacket to get me to halt. But, I promise this isn't because I'm irked. Oh no, it's much worse than that. I'm confused.

Though I've decided on how to finally handle this odd situation the fault comes in not knowing how to go about it. One wrong move and I could end up with a fist to the face or worse. In truth, I'm not even sure how I feel about the devil-child anymore.

Unconsciously my hand comes up to feel the scars on my side and hip. It's a funny feeling. I know my hand is there, my fingertips feel the ends of my shirt, but I can't feel anything there. Not even the cold or heat.

_Does he even know that the scars are there? _

Letting out a sigh I let my hand fall and continue to walk down the hall to my locker. With practiced ease I twist the lock to the right combination and pull up the latch. But as I grabbed my Biology textbook a yellow piece of paper catches my eye. Curious, I pick it up. The text it holds making me grip the paper in shock.

'I saw what you did Sunday. I'll meet you in the parking lot after school. '

I crumble up the sheet of paper and throw it down the hall. Irritation making my muscles tense and feel on edge, a string of curses echoing in my mind at this new development.

* * *

**A/N: Finally we got a bit of drama build up in this story! Sheesh, took me long enough to get here.**

**As far as updates go I'll probably be able to upload a only one chapter a month (two if I'm lucky) now that school is back in. Just so you guys know and understand why it's taken a long time for this update and why it'll be so long for another one:**

**\- I'm in class Monday-Friday 9am-9pm (no joke I go to a University and I'm in my 4th year)**

**\- I work on Friday evenings and all Sunday**

**\- Saturday is my only off day, which I do have to do homework on sometimes**

**Well now you guys know. :) Also, thank you to everyone who reviewed, followed, and favorited last chapter! I love hearing from you guys. Seriously makes my day!**


	8. Chapter 8

_How could someone have possibly seen?_ I bitterly think.

Letting out a hiss of frustration I run my fingers through my hair, combing it back behind my ears; trying to calm myself down as to not act rash. With great difficulty I pull out my textbook and try to regain my composure. But, as I slam the locker door shut, I can't help but feel my gut twist and knot as the words on that note repeat in my mind. Whoever had seen is going to want answers and I'm not sure I can give them, or rather that I want to give them.

This internal turmoil follows me throughout the day. The effects of it so obvious it seems that even the people at my table asked me what was wrong. Well, Tweek and Butters asked. Christopher just snorted and said, "Ztop bein' a bitch." It took quite a while to convince the two blonds I was fine, though I'm sure my face said otherwise. I can't drag them into this, and there's nothing they could possibly do to help. Not to mention, Damien would blow a fuse if I told anyone and there's the risk that both of the two blonds might be overcome by the pheromones.

Even now, with Damien gone for almost a week, the rumor mill still runs. Whispers of where he is and whom he's with like venom to my ears. I can't believe that just one day of the 'heat' had changed their view on him so much. I'll never tell the devil-child but someone has already broken into his gym and school locker, stealing the possessions and selling them throughout the school. It's disgusting, degrading, and vile. Once I'm sure I saw a picture of him being exchanged in the boy's bathroom—completely appalling.

The only ones I don't see being wrapped up in these activities are the ones Damien usually hangs out with after school. Whenever I would pass them on my way to my 'borrowed' truck I would hear them exclaim from time to time how the devil isn't answering their calls, but otherwise everything seems normal. My classes flew by in a flash, the only any sort of threat being a cruel reminder from Eric that our project will soon be due by the end of the week—our final week of school.

However, despite how happy I am that I'll only have one more week of being in this place, I can't remain relaxed as I place the books back on the shelves in the library. I can't even read and become lost in one of the book's stories without the dreaded thought of who waits for me out in the parking lot pulling me back to reality. Either way, I afraid that I'll have to come clean about not only why Damien was with me but also why we were…doing what we were doing. The humiliation of it all makes my face turn beet red with shame, and with a loud groan I bury my face in the book's pages. Not caring who saw this outburst.

* * *

I slowly make my way out to the parking lot. Trying to length the time before I'm forced to confront whatever waits for me out by the truck. It's silly I know. Even a few of my schoolmates I've never spoken with have taken a notice to my slow walking and odd expression of misplaced fear, but none—thankfully—have approached me about it. With a slight push I open the door leading outside, the bright sunlight blinding as I step out of the fluorescent lighting. The parking lot is nearly empty, save for a few vehicles plus my own. But, no one is standing near mine. I pause and breathe a sigh of relief, picking up my pace as I continue my way over to the truck. However, it's not until I'm up close that I see that orange hood.

Sitting, slouched against the back tire Kenny merely waves at me before standing up. A knowing smile growing on his face as blue eyes scrunch up in delight. I grudgingly approach him. Trying to remain calm and not blurt out the fears and questions buzzing in my mind.

"'Ello Kenny," I greet with a smile, "Do you need a ride home?" The smile on the boy's face grows even wider at my words.

"I saw what you did Sunday," the teen softly says, a chill to his words, "Very interesting, Pip. Care to explain why as we drive to your place?" I couldn't find it in myself to say no.

I firmly grip the steering wheel as we drive down the street, my heart beating loudly in my chest. "I guess I know why you were in that sex shop now," the blond young man says, relaxing into the leather covered seat, "You and Damien though? How'd that happen? And why is that motherfucker missing school?"

"It's not like that," I evenly reply keeping my eyes forced on the road, "It's…complicated." Kenny hums in response.

"Complicated? I suppose so but ya'll seemed to have it all figured out last night. Seriously, outside in the water? Never knew you had it in ya Pip."

I don't reply but I can feel his blue eyes on me, sense that judging smile on his lips. "Sooooo," Kenny drawls, "Who tops?"

The truck immediately slams to a halt as I hit the brakes, the car behind me blowing the horn before going around. Kenny hangs onto the seatbelt in shock, his hitched breathing slowly turning into small laughs. I am not amused.

"Seatbelts do save lives!" he exclaims before turning to me, "That wasn't nice at all Pippers."

"Please leave the car if you can't keep your vulgar questions to yourself," I calmly say, "Damien and I have done nothing of the sort and even if we did I would not disclose such information."

Kenny sighs and throws up his hands in a sign of defeat, not speaking another word on the matter. Grudgingly I slowly accelerate the car to the speed limit. Silently praying to God that Damien won't overreact to this surprise and that Kenny won't be affected by the pheromones.

While the poor boy is lean and looks a bit starved I know I wouldn't stand a chance if it came to me getting rid of him. The boy had once knocked out Eric back in Middle School when the brunette's taunting had become too much for goodness sakes. Apparently it had hurt enough to knock some sense into Eric, as he never taunted Kenny like that again—at least, not to my knowledge anyhow. The last thing I need is for that to happen to me in this delicate situation.

The rest of the car ride is silent for the most part, the quiet occasionally broken by Kenny flickering through the different radio stations and his constant moving. As we pull into my driveway however he immediately becomes still. His blue eyes widen as they fall on my house. A low whistle leaves his lips and with a thick hick accent he comments, "And I thought my yard looked bad."

Ignoring the rude remark I say, "Stay in here. I think it'd be best to tell Damien we have company before you come inside."

A confused look forms on the boy's face but he nods in reply. I quickly exit and trot up to the door. Hastily unlocking it and calling out, "Damien I'm home. I brought—"

My words fall silent when I see the paused video game and the cocoon of sheets and blankets on my couch. A small smile grows on my face as I quietly walk over to see the devil sleeping soundly, a pillow clutched in his grasp. All the usually wrinkles and creases are gone from his face leaving an oddly out of place content look. Taking a deep breath I gently place my hand on his shoulder and shake him while whispering, "Hey, time to wake up. I brought someone to see you."

Slowly, the demon stirs from his sleep. A scowl replacing the content look as black eyes glare up at me. With a grunt he pulls the covers over his head and I can't help but let out a small laugh at the action.

"Go away nosy fucker," Damien mumbles, "I'm trying to sleep."

I open my mouth to tell him about our guest when suddenly I hear Kenny exclaim, "Damien!"

All at once the house is thrown into chaos.

Damien snatches the covers from his face, eyes widening in confusion. Kenny swiftly rushes pass me and jumps onto the couch before I can stop him, grabbing ahold of the devil and pulling the both of them down to tumble on the floor. A string of curses meets my ears as they roll around, Kenny holding the devil-child tightly with the brightest smile on his face. Damien is not as thrilled, his black eyes immediately narrowing on me and sparking with fire. Holding the promise of retribution for this.

"What the fuck are you doing here motherfucker?!" the noirette exclaims, pushing the excited blond away.

"Visiting your damn sorry ass," Kenny sharply replies, pulling the other back into a rib-crushing hug, "Could have least told me you were ok you piece of shit. Making me worry like this, fuck you!"

Damien suddenly punches the other boy in the face, quickly standing up and revealing the red boxers and gray T-shirt covering his torso and hips. With a cough, I quickly look away. Hoping that the warmth I feel on my cheeks is from embarrassment.

"You shoved your dirty hand down my pants last time asshole! Why would I tell you anything?" The blond whines and slowly rises up from the floor, clutching his jaw. Damien pauses. "Wait…how come you're acting all normal now?"

Blue eyes narrow and uncharacteristically I hear the blond hiss, "Get back here motherfucker."

With wide eyes the raven-haired young man hastily turns and runs down the hall to his room, Kenny following shortly behind. I sigh and follow, their exclamations and curses turning into white noise in my ears.

_And all this time I thought Kenny was a quiet lad…_

Their outbursts die down when I enter Damien's makeshift room, the devil-child standing by the dresser looking miffed while Kenny rakes his eyes over the posters.

"Whoa, love the décor dude," he states, giving the other a thumbs up. Damien scowls. "I'm surprised that Pip let ya have it," the blond continues looking over at me, "Of course, maybe he's just a freak in the sheets." I narrow my eyes in reply.

"Kenny what the fuck it wrong with you?" Damien hisses, "And, seriously? What the fuck? How come you're not jumping me right now?"

Kenny raises an eyebrow at the teen, a dull expression on his face. "Quite full of your self aren't ya dog boy?" The blond turns back to me, a crooked mischievous smile on his face. "I'm curious, do you guys do the leash and collar thing? Make him woof for ya Pippers?

I sigh and Damien snorts in reply, the devil finding the comment amusing judging by the curl of his lips. "You lose the little bit of brain you have during my absence?" he sneers, sending a pointed look towards me, "I wouldn't do anything like that with this fucking prude if my life depended on it."

Kenny snickers and with a shrug says, "You looked to be enjoying it Sunday."

Damien visibly stiffens and warmth creeps up my face. Shame washes over me as I turn my gaze to the floor, unable to look either in the eye—a thought playing in the back of my mind.

_Just how much had Kenny seen? _

"…What?" the noirette asks, a cruel laugh meeting my ears, "The fuck you talking about Ken?"

"Pip here already told me everything, shithead. Everything. No need to deny it."

I look up at the blond in confusion. Sure I might have admitted that it was us at the lake but nothing else. A warm hand suddenly grabs ahold of the collar of shirt. With a small yip I'm pulled forward nose to nose with the devil-child, his black eyes holding a tint of red. A cruel smile forms on his face, pink lips pulling back to reveal those sharp teeth. The scent of smoke and musk assault my nose at the close proximity and as I try to push him away he states, "You are one dumb motherfucker."

"I-I-I didn't tell him anything!" I blurt out eyeing the fist clenched by his side, "I promise!"

"Lair."

"No I'm not! I just…I just admitted to it being…us out there." My words lose their strength as I speak, the dark look in the other's eyes causing me to lose my voice. His face unreadable as his grip tightens before, finally, letting me slip away.

"Are you mad?" I ask.

Damien huffs. "You could have lied instead you dumbass." His attention then turns to the blond who watches us with a strange look in his eyes. Excitement is clear on his face, hands clasped together as if waiting impatiently for something. "Not cool Ken," Damien sighs, "I would have knocked this fucker's lights out."

Kenny shrugs. "Soooo what was with what I saw Sunday? Something is off about you Damien," the blond states, looking his friend up and down in a questioning manner, "There's a…scent but…hmmm." Kenny pulls a necklace up from depths of his jacket. The black metal loops around his neck and melts together in an open swirl, a small red pearl sitting in the middle of the tiny swirled cage. "Satan gave me this during my last visit when you crashed the car. Said it would help me to avoid a causality like that again if I wear it."

Damien and I share a look before looking back to the teen. With a shrug I say, "I'll leave you two alone to discuss this then."

A pale hand grips tightly around my wrist as I start to walk away, black eyes narrowing at me in irritation. "It's a shame Pippers," he says voice not holding any apologetic tone to it at all, "But this involves you now." His hand releases me and with a sneer he says, "Make us some tea."

* * *

Obnoxious laughter pierces through the air; the slight hiccups and giggles from the blond teen making me groan in annoyance as the kettle starts to whine. Using an oven mitt I grip the metal handle and pull it off the hoteye. Opening the lid I deposit the teabags inside and place the top back on; the teabag strings on the outside. Kenny continues to laugh, and when I turn to look at the two I flinch at the hard expression on Damien's face. Red flushes his face as pink lips frown, showing off the fangs they hide. Abruptly, the devil slams his fist down on the table, body shaking in controlled rage.

"Will you SHUT UP!" he exclaims, "It's NOT funny!"

"You're in heat! Like a bitch!" the other teen replies, his laughter starting up anew, "How is that not funny?"

"It's not funny," I calmly speak, calling their attention over to me, "He can't go out because someone might jump him. First day he came here a crowd of people showed up on my doorsteps asking if I'd seen him. Even now at school they…" My words trail off as I look over at Damien, my expression sympathetic. I can't tell him what's still going on. I just can't. "…The point is: this is not funny. It's serious. Especially when the heat sets in."

Kenny stares at me and pulls the strings of his hoodie down, causing the fabric to close around his face. "Soooo then what I saw Sunday was…"

"Nothing," Damien sharply cuts in, "It was fucking nothing."

I sigh and pull down a cup from out of the cabinet, my thumb absentmindedly running around the ceramic rim. "When the heat sets in—"

A sudden bang cuts off my words, making me jump. I turn my gaze back to the table, expecting to see angry red eyes. However, instead I'm treated to a look of exhaustion on the noirette's face. With a grunt he rubs his eyes and lets out a quiet yawn.

"Ken doesn't need to know that," the devil says, slouching into the wooden seat, "It's not like he can help."

Kenny is silent at first but softly speaks, "What do you mean? How can it affect you that much?"

Damien shoots me a cruel smile. "Let's just say that I don't give a fuck about how the other party feels."

I turn away and don't reply. Picking up two other cups I set the three in a line on the counter before heading over to the refrigerator to grab the milk. "Damien…" I hear Kenny gasp, obviously shocked, "Pip did he…? Has he…? Dude, that's fucking wrong!"

"Relax," Damien replies, not at all affected by the other's tone, "I can't even get near the guy now. Not without the asshole throwing me down or handcuffing me to a bed again."

I sharply turn at that, mouth open in shock. _How dare he!_

"That is not how it happened," I snap, slamming the fridge shut and walking over to the counter, "You tried to handcuff me first. I just acted in defense!" A mischievous smile grows on the teen's face, his black eyes crinkling in mirth. Shaking my head I turn my attention back to the tea and ask Kenny, "How much milk and sugar would you like?"

The screech of a moving seat meets my ears and with a hushed tone he says, "Actually I have to get going, sorry." Glancing at the boy I'm perplexed when I see the concerned expression on his face, the flip phone glowing brightly in his hand. "I'll drop by again some other time," he continues, pocketing the phone and heading over to the door.

"Would you like a ride?" I ask.

The blond shakes his head, a cheeky smile on his face. "Thanks but I can walk." Kenny turns to the devil. "I'll keep this a secret but I expect you to answer my calls and texts from now on Damien. And, you had better expect me to definitely visit this Saturday for our annual horror movie night."

With a wave to me Kenny turns to leave, shutting the down quietly behind him. I turn to the devil and ask, "Annual horror movie night?"

He nods and picks at his nails. "Been having it since we were….hmmm, I would say eight? Maybe ten?"

I hum and dip a few drops of milk into one teacup and keep the other plain; wanting something strong. "That young? How is that possible? You didn't come back to town until Middle School. 7th grade."

The devil turns to me, a confused look on his face. "How the hell do you remember that?"

With a shrug I pick up both cups and bring them over to the table. The chair squeaks as I sit and taking a sip of my drink I reply, "I remember because I was excited that you were back. Thought we could start anew." My green eyes narrow as I drink and with a grunt I continue, "And then you pants me in the gym locker room."

The demon snorts and lets out a stifled laugh, the cup gripped tightly in his hands. "Fuck, I did didn't I? I don't really remember that much from back then. Did you not wear underwear back then too?"

I give him a pointed look, causing him to laugh harder at me. "Kenny would come over to visit whenever he died and got sent to hell," Damien explains, taking a huge gulp from the small cup, "Really fucking annoying back then. Bastard always interrupted me during my torture lessons."

"What a shame," I sarcastically reply. We sit there in silence until both glasses are empty. Out of habit, I take them both to the sink and start to wash the used dishes when Damien asks, "Want to play a video game?"

I'm not sure why but I accepted, despite not having much experience with the devices. We played an odd looking game called "Scott Pilgrim" and after a few angry pointers from Damien I finally figured out how to use the character Rose. It was strangely companionship-like to be doing this with him as his usual spite visibly reduced as we continued to play. Soon however his character began to not move at all. I turn to ask him what was wrong and feel a small smile form on my face. The devil had fallen asleep again, curling up into himself with the blanket wrapped around his form.

As quietly as I can, I turn off the system and TV before heading down the hall to my room; making sure to turn off the lights in the main room as I went. Stretching I remove my clothes, gather up my pajamas, and head into the bathroom, my skin feeling dirty and need of a wash. Setting my clothes on the bathroom counter I turn the shower knob to a comfortable temperature and step inside, a pleasurable sigh leaving my lips as the warm water runs over my form. I quickly wash my hair and body, wanting to hurry on to bed, when I hear the door creak.

I freeze when I see a shadowed silhouette forming on the messily mended shower curtain. My heart picking up in pace when I notice the outline of the horns, a pair of clawed hands barely scratching at the flimsy barrier between us.

* * *

**A/N: I love leaving cliffhangers like these for you guys. I honestly get a kick out of it.**

**So I got super sick this week and thus found time to update, yay! Don't worry though, I'm doing much much better now and am already working on the next chapter. (It's flu/cold season where I am and I'm an idiot for not staying away from sick classmates) I absolutely loved writing Kenny's parts in this chapter though. Fleshed him out a bit more I hope. **

**I'm really, really excited to share the next chapter with you all though! It's a major build up in this story and is full of all sorts of juicy tender delights!**

**Thank you everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed last chapter. Hope to hear from you all on your thoughts on this one. Until next time, my lovely readers. ;)**


	9. Chapter 9

Fingers protrude forward from the other side of the bath, the black claws I know that emerge from the pale flesh clothed in the mended fabric. I press myself flush against the tile wall, ignoring the ice-cold feeling that runs along my back. My eyes quickly scan the area but I know I'm trapped—vulnerable with nothing to protect myself.

The erratic beat of my heart makes the blood pulse in my ears, a low growl from the other side making my muscles tense. The protruding fingers soon fall back only to wrap around the edge of the shower curtain, and I shuffle to the opposite side of the bath as the shower curtain is pulled back, allowing a rush of cool air to mix with the steam. Red eyes gaze up at me as Damien steps inside, his grey shirt hanging off in shreds with the boxers still on his hips; stretched out by his erection.

A small hiss leaves the devil-child as the hot water hits his chest and outstretching an arm he slowly turns the hot water knob off. Goosebumps begin to trail up and down my skin at the changing temperature, my body starting to shake from both the cold and rising fear. As the knob lets out a squeak when it hits the final turn, Damien's arm brushes against mine; causing me to jump from the warmth it radiates. A sharp contrast to the cold that soon takes its place.

My breathing hitches as the noirette continues to stand there, his red eyes moving momentarily over my exposed form. Red flushes my cheeks when his eyes focus on my lower regions and grabbing a washcloth I hastily cover myself. I want to scream at him to leave, to get out, but can't find my voice.

The clawed hand falls away from the shower knob and black claws gently scrap my side. I freeze when I see them, their smooth ebony shade contrasting sharply against the peach marred flesh. Though I still can't feel anything there, just seeing them causes me to feel phantom touches. The clawed fingers follow the blemished skin, tips of the claws caressing the strange shapes they make. But, as the hand falls down to the markings on my hip I grab the wrist in an iron grip.

"No," I breathe, my shock suddenly replaced with rage. A puzzled look covers Damien's face as he continues to look at the marks and I snap. Throwing his hand back I shout, "Get out!"

He doesn't do as I say and instead the demon-child continues to stand there, the cold water hitting him making steam slowly rise from his form. His scent—that dreaded alluring scent—begins to waft the air around me; making my nerves sing. My eyes trail down the familiar body without my permission, my breath hitching when they land on the soaked boxers clinging to his thighs and cock. I try to steel my nerves and retain control of myself as I beckon him forward with a curl of my finger but can't help but shake. Surprisingly, the devil-child doesn't immediately come and instead stays on his side of the tub. A small smile forms on my face at the lack of reaction and I'm not sure why.

"Come here," I say like one would to a child, "And don't attack me."

Almost hesitantly, Damien makes his way over. Not stopping till we're both nose to nose, forcing me back up to add just a few inches of space between us. His smoke tainted breath washes over my lips, his erection pressing into my thigh. Heat radiates from the young man's body, warming up my front while the cold water chills my back. All the while I can't but think of how easy it'd be to fall forward just a bit and become encased in that comforting warmth. To be wrapped up in it and let go of my worries for a while. But, I keep still and will the thoughts away, ignoring my own growing excitement. Turning my green eyes away from Damien's I stutter, "W-what do y-you want me to d-do?"

The noirette lets out a hum of thought and for the first time speaks, "Example?" His voice is coarse and groggy, sending a shiver up my spine.

"Example?" I ask, causing him to nod, "I-I…don't quite get what you mean."

Damien is quiet for a while before suddenly pushing me flush against the tile wall. I stutter and exclaim my discontent as his palms hold me there when he says, "Stay completely still."

Despite a small voice in the back of my mind telling me not to, I do as he says, anxious and scared as to what he's got planned. Soft lips press against my neck, a warm tongue licking at the skin. My body freezes at the small pleasurable sensations and anxiety begins to bubble inside as the kisses increase and trail lower; a small groan leaving my mouth as the lips press vigorously against the crook of my neck.

A clawed hand rakes down my chest, fingers playing with the blond curled hair that trails down to my stomach. I can feel the warmth from it trail lower and hover just over my excitement before avoiding it and caressing my thigh. A whine echoes in the back of throat and my face brightens in color. Damien chuckles, his breath tickling my neck.

I should stop this but, honestly, I can't bring myself to care. He'll have to be taken care of whether I'm sated or not. The thought of him barreling out of the house and pouncing on some unexpecting soul giving me reason to wrap my arms around his neck as pale hands and lips continue to feel my skin. Shame whispers into my ear as the kisses trail lower, down my chest and onto my stomach.

_How disgusting,_ the emotion says, it's grip on me tightening, _How uncouth. Like a whore._ Desire battles with my morals as I run my fingers through the raven locks, the delicious heat from that mouth pressing into my thigh.

_I can't do this._

"Stop," I croak, pulling on the thick hair in protest. Curious red eyes look up at me from his kneeled position and I have to force my own shut—the image burned into my mind, tempting me to let go. Instead, I groan out, "I can't do this. I-I'm sorry…"

Damien stands and presses his nose to mine but I can't bring myself to open my eyes. This is wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. We should at least court for a bit before participating in these activities and yet I'm always, always, here. Compromised and overcome with complex desires to do what I want and what's right. Sometimes I wish I were raised differently. Perhaps in a home or simply a place where morals were lax, then I could possibly rush into this without a second thought but…

A warm hand grabs mine and pulls it downward, my fingers slowly sliding down the red fabric to linger on the devil-child's pulsing flesh. My eyes open and flicker down for a split second before looking him back in the eye. His breathe mingles with mine, our lips just a an inch apart. Some primal instinct takes over my cognitive thought as I continue to breathe in that alluring scent, the feeling like cotton balls slowly taking up the small space left between my brain and skull. The young man moves his head to bury his face into the crook of my neck as I pull his cock through the slip in his boxers and wrap my fingers around the length. My other hand remains curled up in the thick raven locks, the sounds that begin to fall from his lips as I move my other hand along the erection stirring up the desire curling in my gut further.

Warm, pale arms wrap around me, clutching me tightly as the temperature starts to rise in the small room. The cold water becoming steam as it touches his skin, the humidity rising to such a degree that a dense fog begins to form around us. Damien lets out a shaky moan before becoming tense, his claws curling up and almost painfully pressing into my flesh. I speed up my hand's movement and the demon lets out a low hiss. With a shutter he climaxes into my hand and, like a rag doll, goes limp on me—nearly making both of us tumble to the ground.

Giving a frustrated sigh I ignore my own problem and proceed to clean both of us up and turn off the water. With great difficulty I pull him out of the tub, careful to not brush my aching erection on anything. I towel dry the both of us the best I can and carry him to my bed, wanting to collapse and fall asleep as soon as possible—not even caring about the amount of water that still lies on the tile floor. After covering both of us up I scoot over to my side of the bed, not caring about my unclothed self, and fall into a deep slumber.

* * *

The muffled wailing of the kettle stirs my mind into a semi-alert state, the lingering cling of slumber grasping tightly to my eyes in an effort to bring me back to the land of sleep. Eyelids blinking slowly as I awaken, looking around the room in search of my temporary roommate and I find myself slightly disappointed. The room is empty and as the wailing comes to a sudden halt I fall back into the bed, pulling the covers up my chin. The cover are cool and damp against my form but it feels nice and thus I can't bring myself to care about their state; though I know that they'll soon have to be washed if I don't want a mildew smell to grow from the sheets. After a few moments of silence the door to my room opens with a click and the pit-a-pat of bare feet reach my ears. A warm hand pokes my cheek rather harshly and I groan in discontent.

"Wake up nancy-boy," Damien says, poking my face again, "Tea is ready."

I look up at the devil through the corner of my eye, noting the black shirt and grey sweatpants that cover his torso and legs, before shooing him away with my hand and pulling the covers closer to my body. The devil-child snorts. Suddenly, a hand grabs my wrist, yanking me out of bed with a yelp. I jolt awake, the cold air hitting my skin a sharp reminder that I am still bare. Luckily, my feet land straight on the wooden floor, a red blush creeping onto my cheeks as the covers fall from my grasp, the fabric pooling around my toes. Black eyes rake over my body and with a shiver I snatch the covers from the ground and wrap them around my body to shield myself from his piercing stare.

"That was not necessary," I chide with a bit of spite. Refusing to look the other in the eye.

"…What caused those marks?"

I turn my gaze up at the unexpected question, the spark of annoyance in my heart growing into a fire at the scrunched up look of disgust that covers his face. I let out an awkward and humorless laugh, clutching the bedcover tighter. "You caused them."

His expression doesn't change at the revelation, instead evenly saying, "Ah, then let me see them."

I coil back at the startling request. "Why?"

The noirette shrugs. "I supposedly caused them so I have a right to see them."

Anger awakens in the back of my mind, the sparked fury rising in degree. My fists clench tighter around the fabric, that dark gaze still on me. "Supposedly? You DID cause them!"

"Then let me see them."

"No," I reply, a little miffed at his attitude, "You saw them last night. That was enough."

The devil shrugs. "Didn't get a good look at them. I was busy focused on other things last night, ass-hat." My cheeks deepen in color at the comment, and with a huff he grabs ahold of the bedspread, looking me straight in the eyes with a mischievous smile. "You'd think a fucking sap like yourself would be happy with the attention but instead you push me away."

Without warning he harshly pulls the bedspread away. I nearly stumble and let out a gasp in shock, quickly covering myself with my hands. "Dang it, Damien! Give me back the blanket!"

"Seriously, why are you so prudish?" Damien continues, completely ignoring my outcry, "I wasn't gonna hurt you fucktard." He pauses. "Not on purpose at least."

I huff and grab ahold of the edge of the bedspread, trying to pull it out of his grasp. "Right, cause all those other times when you just jumped me didn't hurt at all," I snap, pulling the sheet from his hands with a single tug, "Now, get out I need to dress."

The noirette cocks his head to the side that crooked smile growing on his face as I start to rewrap myself in the comforters hold. He immediately pulls the covers back and I suck in a sharp breath, trying to keep my patience. "Damien," I warn, narrowing my eyes at the hell spawn, "If you don't leave right now I will throw you out of my bedroom!"

"I was just a little aggressive, Pippers. You try being fucking horny as hell and not attack someone! Besides it's not like you'll have to worry about that anymore." My irritation halts at those words, confusion morphing the narrowed expression on my face into something softer. Damien rolls his eyes. "Your desire? Don't you fucking remember? At the lake? 'Don't force yourself onto me'? I gave you my word it'd be without an attachments or fine print so there you go."

The cruel smile returns to his face and he smugly comments, "Though you left a lot of loop holes for me to jump through."

I don't bother to reply and walk over to my dresser, digging through the old furniture for some clothes; ignoring the nagging voice in my head telling me how inappropriate it is to walk around nude in the presence of another.

_Honestly,_ I tell myself,_ he's seen it. There isn't really anything left to hide._

Then a warm hand touches my side and I jump from the unexpected contact. Damien doesn't look me in the eyes, his gaze focused on the marred flesh sprouting over my hip. I watch as his fingers trace the embedded patterns, unable to find my voice to tell him to stop. He looks so…out of place. As if he's trying desperately to remember when he had caused the large mark, a deep frown on his face. The foggy memory of how the marking came to be plays in my mind like an old VHS tape, everything nearly unrecognizable except for the recollection of the pain; the feeling of being burned alive.

"Please stop," I whisper, my words hushed and voice quivering as phantom touches begin to sprout from the marred area. Black eyes look back up at mine and instantly the hand falls away. For a moment we stay like that, our eyes interlocked as a steady tension builds. But then, almost awkwardly the young man looks away, his feet leading him away from me.

"You'd better hurry on to school," the devil-child says, heading out of my room, "It's nearing 10 o'clock. You're late."

* * *

I'm not one for disregarding the law, not at all, but I suppose today's an exception; seeing as how I went well over the speed limit trying to get to school. I didn't even slow down when I saw Officer Barbrady on the side of the road, knowing that he possibly wouldn't even try to pull me over. Unfortunately, today is just not my day.

The police siren wails behind me, forcing me to pull over by a ditch. Grudgingly I turn the car off and silently wait for the officer to walk up to my window. Anxiety making my muscles sit on edge, cause this is bad. Really, really bad. I can't find my driver's license, I don't know where the papers to this dang truck are, and I haven't been a minor for quite a few months. My face pales. _What if they take the truck away?_

A hand taps on my window and I quickly roll it down, not meeting the officer's eyes. "License and registration please."

I open the glove box between the two front seats, my right hand flipping through the mess of receipts. Then my fingers brush something plastic and crusting in something I can only describe as gunk. I gaze down curiously and immediately pull my hand out of the container; disgust and annoyance making me grimace at the used condoms sitting innocently among the clutter. Wiping my hand on the leather seats I turn to Officer Barbrady with a toothy smile.

"Er, sorry chap. I don't seem to have either."

_Why the dickens are there used condoms in Damien's car?!_

"Oh. Wait a second," he says, looking closer at me, "You're suppose to be in school."

"Yes sir, I woke up a tad bit late and was on my way there." He pauses for a minute as if slowly thinking over my words. I squirm in my seat awkwardly under that sunglass hidden gaze, his face unreadable until those brown eyebrows narrow.

"Speeding, driving without a license and registration, and skipping school? Calmly get out of the car sir."

I wince and quickly sputter, "B-but I wasn't skipping!"

"Calmly get out of the car sir," he repeats, showing me the police baton in his hand, "Don't make me have to use force."

Throwing my hands up as a sign of surrender, I do as he asks and calmly step out. Without warning, I'm pushed against the side of the truck, the wind effectively knocked out of my lungs as a meaty arm pushes into my upper back. Cold metal wraps tightly around my wrists and with a clear click the cuffs are locked.

_Today is not my day…_

* * *

I slump against the gray walls of the jail cell; the metal bars a harsh reminder of my ill luck. After my arrest the truck had been towed and Officer Barbrady had gone on to read me my rights—after some arguing that I am an American citizen despite my accent. Just my luck that the department wished to make an "example" of me as well, fining me $500 for not driving with a driver's license, and sentencing me to a night in jail for skipping school and refusing to show the officer papers of registration upon request.

While I was given the opportunity to make a phone call I can't call anyone as I never bothered to memorize any numbers and don't have a phone of my own. Anxiety claws at me as I think of what this evening will bring. Damien will go into his heat and…oh God. I clasp my head in my hands, rocking back and forth on the wooden slab seat. If he gets out and hurts someone then…I'll have caused it.

Because I was stupid and tried to speed off to school someone is going to get hurt tonight. The guilt quickly builds up inside making me physically ill. My stomach knots, the bile within burns my throat but never makes it all the way up. I glance up to the clock on the wall, the hands reading 3 o'clock.

_School is out now…will Damien even care when I don't come home? He'll surely notice._

The hours tick by dreadfully slow as I continue to sit there, at times a distant clatter or mutter coming from the cells adjacent to my own; bored out of my mind while anxiety and guilt torture me with vivid scenes of what the unstoppable dilemma tonight will bring. The jingle of keys awakens me from my awful thoughts, and with beady eyes I look up as the footsteps stop outside of my cell. My mouth falls in disbelief at the two blonds staring at me, their expressions mirroring each other's shock.

_What are Kenny and Butters doing here?_

Out of all the people to find me in this awkward and humiliating situation I guess I couldn't ask for better. Neither seems like the type to judge but I bet their curiosity is buzzing. Especially Kenny's judging by that amused smirk forming on his face.

"Pip?" Butters asks, "Why're you in here? Why weren't ya at school?

I let out an awkward laugh. "Ah, Kenny, Butters, 'ello chaps. Seems I got myself into quite a conundrum. I…I was late so I speed to school, got caught speeding then driving without a license. One thing lead to another and well here I am. Being made an example of. Er, why are you two here?"

"Butters and I work here as part timers cleaning up the floors, bathrooms, and trash. Hell sometimes we even get these cops coffee," Kenny explains with a shrug, "Hoping we can both join the academy after graduation. Making connections here will make it easier to put our foot in the door."

"You want to become officers?" I question, honestly shocked by their future work choice, "Well, I wish you both the best of luck then."

Butters expression grows in concern and gripping the bars he says, "Well, I'm sorry you're in here, fella. Maybe Ken and I could talk to the chief for ya. We're on pretty good terms and you're too nice of a guy to be locked up in here."

A genuine smile grows on my face. "Thank you, chap. If you were able to I'd greatly appreciate it, but could I talk to Kenny privately if you don't mind?"

The blond gives an odd look between us before shrugging his shoulders, and leaving with a wave of his hand. I wait until I can't hear the other's footsteps anymore before opening my mouth to speak. Kenny holds up a hand to silence me immediately, a knowing smile on his face.

"You're worried about Damien aren't ya?" he asks. Stunned I give a sharp nod, making the teenager shake his head. "Don't be. I'll go and check up on him after work. He's a brat for sure but knows when to stay out of trouble."

"That's…not why I'm worried," I whisper, "It's his…condition. I'm afraid he's going to hurt someone."

Kenny's eyes widen at my confession. "Hurt someone? Is it that bad?" I look at him in a momentarily silence before nodding. The blond sighs. "Has he ever…you know, forced himself onto ya?"

"Well…kind of," I quietly respond, not liking the sudden absence of movement from the other cells, "He's tried. Failed in all regards but he's still tried. I…I can fight him off and last night he didn't try to force himself on me but…"

The blond curses and starts to pace, running his hand through his hair. "This is so fucking messed up. So, so, so fucking messed up." With a pause he shoots me a sharp look. "Look, Damien might be cruel at times but he'd never do that to someone. Never. Anyone he's been with has always been consensual."

"Really? So, he can have the cruelty to bully people, set me on fire, and ask for my heart on a platter but not rape?" I ask making the other boy flinch, "On the very first night he said 'you'll do for now' before launching himself after me."

"He wasn't in his right mind," Kenny hisses.

"And he won't be tonight," I snap back, "If you can get me out I can keep him in my home. If you can't I need you to go other there and…take care of him. He shouldn't refuse once it gets bad enough."

The young man pauses, looking down on me with a mix of emotions. Finally, he exhales a deep sigh. "I won't like it but I'll…I'll try. But, Butters and I are definitely going to try and get you out. Um, are you really alright with…dealing with that?"

I let out a humorless laugh. "I don't have much of a choice. I've already given Satan my word and Damien refuses to let anyone else come see him during this time. Believe me, I've tried."

Kenny nods, a forced small smile stretching his chapped lips. "Alright. But let's keep this raunchy business between just the three of us. If Bebe finds out then I'm totally out on the street."

I raise an eyebrow but nod, giving a small smile of my own. "I'd much appreciate that."

* * *

The clock ticks to 6 o'clock and I'm still stuck in my cage. Neither Butters nor Kenny could get me any wiggle room for escape. Like a hyperactive child I pace around the room, my fingers moving in an erratic beat as I clench them together and tear them apart. Kenny had sworn he would try to help keep Damien under control, but I fear that tonight the demon will be free and wreck havoc. Bringing fire and destruction wherever he goes, forcing himself onto poor unexpecting souls.

Anger burns fiercely in my gut but I can't help but bring myself to worry for the noirette's safety as well. That scent of his is going to drive people to him like fly to honey. What if in his confusion he attracts the wrong kind of people? The ones you don't even make eye contact with on the street? Damien had confessed that he doesn't even want the lust the heat puts upon him but his actions…surely there's some sort of pleasure he gets from it. He certainly has no quarrels about going after me. I pause.

Now…why is that? Surely Damien would like to go through this with someone he's close to and has a special relationship with? Judging by those used condoms in his vehicle the devil has had quite a lot partners or at least had a few many, many times. If he had no objections with those people at that time then why now? It is because we don't have a close relationship so there's nothing to ruin? Is it the power play like the bully and victim we are at times at school?

No. No, it can't be the power play. Damien doesn't even try to make me lash out at him anymore. He doesn't speak harsh words directed to actually hurt me and even carries a normal conversation with me. No. There's something to this. Some key part I'm missing. And by golly, I'm going to figure it out.

* * *

**A/N: Hey, look! And update!**

**Hmmm, what could Damien be hiding? I wonder... And, this was one of my favorite chapters to write. There's just so much suspense!**

**Also, I got a question for you guys. Does this story seem to be pacing well to you? I'm honestly losing my way along the path to get from Point A to Point B in the story (I've written like 5 chapters ahead from this). So if you have an complaints or comments I'll happily listen to them and even reply to you about them.**

**I'll try to have an other update for you guys by the 2nd week of November. Peace. :)**

************South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone******  
******


	10. Chapter 10

After falling into a restless sleep I didn't wake until early that morning, the warren letting me out with just enough time to walk to school and handing me a slip of paper with my fine on it and the address of where to mail it if I don't wish to appear in court—a small thing I'm quite thankful for. Though the amount is I need to pay is daunting—not including the added fine to get the truck back—I can't seem to find it in me to care about that right now; the money becoming nothing more than a small annoyance as the current dilemma courses through my mind. Kenny had never contacted the police station with an update on the situation last night and worry fills me from head to toe. There were no reports on a rampage going on last night that I could overhear being broadcasted on the TV down the hall. No news on a hellfire breaking out. No whispers or outcries from the cops of a sudden disaster that was unfolding here in town. Nothing at all, and that shakes me to the core.

As soon as I exit out of the station with my book bag in hand I throw the pack over my shoulder and break into a run to my house as soon as my feet hit the concrete pavement. A few of the other townspeople on the sidewalk shoot strange looks my way as I pass but I pay them no mind. Too focused on hurrying home to worry about them noticing my unusual behavior. As I nearly avoid getting run over by a honking car, I sharply turn down the corner of a street and nearly collide with Tweak and Craig. The blond let's out a cry of surprise and I quickly avoid them before continuing on my way. Tweak calls out for me to wait but I ignore him, guilt twisting slightly in my gut at my rude behavior. I'll have to formally apologize to him next time I see him.

My breathing becomes short and frantic, the muscles in my chest harshly clenching in a painful hold as a dull stabbing pain begins to form on my side. The tension in my legs increases with each step, the long run causing my out of shape form to ache and groan. If I could I would have sighed in relief when my house came into view, instead I force myself to run faster to the front door. Hurrying up the steps I pull out my key and jam it into the lock. A soft click meets my ears as I twist the metal and without waiting another second I dash inside, only to suddenly stop in shock.

The kitchen is in shambles, the den in no better shape. The cabinets doors hang open, their insides of plates, bowls, and cups littering the smooth wood floor. Knifes, forks, spoons are wedged into the far wall by the backdoor, the metal gleaming in the morning light that peers in. The couch is covered in rips and tears with yellow stuffing and rusted coil springs jarring from the fabric. Kenny sits quietly on the mangled furniture, curling up into himself with the quilted blanket to avoid the loose springs. Tired blue eyes blink up at me, dark circles underlining the sockets. A weary smile forms on his face.

"'Mornin," he croaks in a hoarse voice, "Don't worry. He's ok. Been in the shower all night."

Giving a sharp nod, I continue down the hall through my room and pause at the bathroom door. The splash of running water meets my ears and I ball my fingers into tight fists as I see the steam rise in small puffs from under the door. He waited? Waited all night behind this door? Not going out or wrecking havoc? By what Kenny had said upon my entry and the mess I can only guess that Damien didn't take too kindly to the other's advancements either—if there were any at all. Is this behavior normal for some devils? Satan had made it seem as if the boy would need several partners and judging by the used condoms in the truck there was no lack in that area. I pale.

_…__The truck. I had completely forgotten. How am I going to break that news? _

Taking a deep breath I grip the cool metal of the doorknob, twist it open, and cautiously walk inside. The steam and scent from within hits me like the waves of an angry sea, wrapping around me and nearly suffocating me. The sudden change so intense that I nearly fall to my knees, my body reacting far too quickly to the sudden alteration to be…of my own accord. My blood feels as if it's boiling in my veins, my cognitive thought only slightly ahead of the animal-like instinct that bursts to life in my cranium.

Shaking the strange thoughts from my head I stand and force myself not to dash over to the tub. Water covers the floor, sinking into the ripped clothes and bathmat that lie on the tile floor. But, as my eyes fall on the figure lying in the tub I can't bring myself to be mad. Damien looks…pitiful. Worse than I've ever seen him. Angry cat-like marks cover his torso and arms, the scratches a bright red. His whole body submerged under the water, tiny bubbles and trails of steam rising from his form. Black locks lie flat against his skull, the curled horns larger in size than before. Red eyes gaze into a far distance, his shoulders momentarily twitching at my presence before falling still.

"Damien?" I whisper. He doesn't move at all.

Slowly I make my way over placing a hand on his face, brushing the hair from his eyes before recoiling my hand in shock. It feels as if he has a…a dangerously high fever. From this close proximity I notice the slight decline of his form that ripples in the water, and feel my face pale as I move my hand down and brush the crinkled hardened plastic that wraps around his hips. Where the devil lays the tub had been melted away, allowing him to sink lower into the white plaster. That can't feel nice. Why? Why would he allow this to happen? A single pained groan leaves his lips and I snap my eyes back up to his. Red eyes gaze blankly at me, so void of any and all emotion that I wonder if he's even all there right now. Taking a few calming breathes I slide my hand up his form, over his hipbone and lower to brush my fingers down his length. He doesn't even flinch.

There was none of the usual energy from him as I sated him with my hand. The usually humiliating act lasting no more than thirty second, the oddity of the situation chasing away my usual shame and guilt. Red eyes flutter close and the comforting soft snores that begin to exit his lips make me let out a sigh of relief. This cannot be normal. Gently I scrap him out of the tub, the water sloshing around my shoes and his back thankfully not sticking to the white plaster as I hoist him upwards and pull him out of the tub. Warm arms wrap around my neck as I try to keep him from falling, my arms beginning to shake from the task. With an apology I place him on the cold tile floor and grab one of the still hanging towels to quickly dry him off before carrying him to his makeshift room and tucking him into bed. With a huff I run my fingers through his hair.

"You're a brat," I remark, my hand falling back to my side. I shove my hands into my pockets, "A big, dangerous brat." A sudden knock comes from Damien's bedroom door and my heart nearly leaps into my throat.

"C-come in," I call as the door squeaks open. Kenny peeks in and slowly walks into the room, a puzzled look on his face.

"Is everything alright?" he asks, "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Letting out a shaky breath I reply, "Get me Damien's phone please. I need to make a call."

* * *

The dial tone rings loudly in my ear as I anxiously wait for the other end to pick up, my fingers drumming impatiently on the dinner table. With a click the dial tone ceases and a deep voice answers, "Hello? Damien?" I gulp, unable to reply. "Hello?" Satan calls, "I know you're there Damien. I have caller I.D. How's your heat going? Is Pip taking good care of you?"

"Um, actually Satan this is Pip," I weakly say, sinking into the wooden seat, "I have some…concerns I wish to discuss about your son."

"Oh, hello Pip!" he happily greets, "Is everything alright? And, congrats on getting Damien to let you use his phone. He's very, very touchy about others using it."

_Noted._ "Well, I believe everything is alright. But, he's been exhibiting some odd behaviors. See, I was locked up in jail last night and—"

"Locked up?" the king of hell exclaims, "Pip I swear if Damien had something to do with that—"

"D-don't worry sir," I quickly assure him, "It was my fault entirely. I was speeding to school because I was late and was caught by the police. They decided to make an example of me and have me stay overnight." A sigh of relief echoes from the other side of the line and taking that as a sign to continue I say, "You said that he would require people to sate his desires, so I'm guessing you meant multiple partners correct?"

"Of course," Satan laughs, "Devils do not stay with one partner forever Pip; even if they build a connection with a single one. We're known for having mass harems from time to time, but usually, for the most part, just keep to ourselves."

I pause. Damien hadn't been doing that at all since entering my house. Though the evidence in the truck's glove box proves that he's had sexual encounters in the past.

"…Pip?" Satan calls from the other end, "Are you still there?"

"Oh, yes sir," I quickly answer, "I just find that a bit odd as…" My words trail off, face turning bright red. What an awkward situation I've gotten myself into. "Well, Damien has been refusing to let anyone he knows into the house to…satisfy him," I continue, "I've…been doing it. Even when I was locked up and sent Kenny over here to watch over Damien, your son didn't call anyone over." After a pause I add, "And, he seemed to have an outburst during my absence if the appearance of my house is any clue."

The other side of the line is silent and I start to wonder if our call got dropped when a gruff voice sighs. "I'm sorry to put you through this Pip. I didn't mean to place such a burden on you. I didn't think he'd force himself on you. The boy should know better. I've told him time and time again that it's unhealthy to wait and that it's important to have multiple partners during heat. But, does he listen? Nope. Always thinks he knows best."

"I'm perfectly fine," I assure him, "He's only forced himself on me a few times and he's never gone…all the way. I didn't let him as; well…it's against my moral code. But, he has been sleeping more here lately. Is that abnormal as well?"

"Fortunately, no. It's a sign that Damien is near the end of his heat. I would say about two to three days more tops, but has he really just been having you fulfill his sexual desires? No one else?"

As I answer 'Yes' the call ends, the familiar dial tone beeping in my ear. Fear washes over me at the sudden drop of the call. Surely…I hadn't offended the king of hell in anyway? My eyes fall on the closed front door, muscles tensing. Does it matter that much that Damien hasn't called anyone over during this situation? By Satan's reaction I suppose it does but I can't decide whether to be insulted or not at the thought. I've done my best to take care of him. Kept my word on giving him a place to rest and even allowing him to participate in lewd activities with people if he so pleased. It's not my fault that he decided not to call on anyone to help—no one but me at least.

Placing the phone on the table I walk back to Damien's makeshift room, giving a tired smile to the blond that sits by the devil-child's bedside; a PSP in his hands.

"How'd the talk with Satan go?" Kenny asks, erratically pressing in the buttons on his device. I give a tired sigh and lean against the doorframe, running a hand down my face.

"Could have gone better. Got a dropped call." The blond breathes a hiss through clenched teeth.

"That can be either ok or not, dude. What did you guys talk about?"

Ignoring the question, I point to the sleeping young man, sudden shy tremor in my voice as I speak. "…Has Damien had many 'partners' before?"

The noises from the game stop and blue eyes shoot up to meet mine. They crinkle in amusement and with a chuckle Kenny pockets the game before walking over to me. With a crooked smile he pats my shoulder. "Don't worry Pippers. He's had eh, hmmm, three I think? None of them lasted long though. You're not going to catch anything. He's clean."

"What?!" I exclaim before stuttering, "I-I didn't…I wasn't…Thank you Kenny but that's not why I'm asking." He shrugs, the smile growing on his face.

"Then, why would you be?"

"…I'm not sure I can say as of yet," I reply, "I want to talk about it with Damien first."

The blond's face falls and with a sigh he says, "Quite talking like a woman Pip. Damien will probably tell me anyway so why don't you save him the trouble?" I raise an eyebrow at the statement. Not amused by his comment.

"Damien will tell you then," I reply, ignoring his jab, "Just be patient. Please." Suddenly, strong arms lace around my neck. The protruding bones of the teen's ribcage poke through the orange fabric into my arm.

"Please, please, please, please?" he begs, letting his footing fall and nearly toppling me to the ground with him. I try to push the lanky teen off but his hold just tightens, making me have to lean over to relieve the pressure where his hands link together between my shoulder and neck. I deeply breathe in, trying to not lose my nerves.

_A gentleman is always patient_, I remind myself and turning to the blond I evenly say, "No. Now, please, let go."

Kenny just hums in response and with a sigh I shuffle backwards down the hall, the brat's arms still linked around my neck as he's dragged along the floor.

* * *

"Hey Pip, can we order some pizzas?"

With a sigh I mark the place in my book before turning to the teen, face scrunched up in annoyance. "I don't order food when I have plenty in the fridge," I testily explain, "You're welcome to what you can find, however, if you want."

Immediately, Kenny lets go of the video game controller and strolls over my kitchen, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. I glance at the time on the stove and flinch. This is two days that I've skipped school and I've still yet to do that biology assignment. My eyes fall on the supplies I had bought last week lying abandoned in the kitchen corner and I sink down in my seat. I'll just do it when Kenny leaves. With tested patience I ignore the clattering of cups and bowls coming from the kitchen, instead focusing on the words of the book in my hands. However, this bliss is cut short when I hear the blond call, "Hey, how long should I heat this soup up for?"

"Try for about two minutes," I reply.

The microwave beeps as numbers are pushed. The device giving off a low hum as it starts up. "Alright. Think I should cover it up?"

"Unless you want to clean up a mess, I would."

A loud pop meets my ears. "Too late, Pippers."

With a grimace I massage my temple between my thumb and forefinger. _God give me patience with this one._

The day continues like this. With Kenny indulging himself in the video games while I become wrapped up in the story of my book. Occasionally, I'd pick up a controller and play Castle Crashers along with him but for the most part we sat in comfortable silence. Just enjoying the other presence. The lad even decided to sit with me on the shambles of a back porch in the back for a bit, our conversations becoming nothing more than small talk as we watch the stars start to dot the orange and red sky.

A content sigh leaves my lips as I sip my tea—Kenny holding a glass of orange juice instead. We were just in the middle of talking about plans after high school when the backdoor opens with a loud bang. Damien emerges from the house, disheveled and anxious. The tension in those broad shoulders melting away when red eyes focus on us, the iris slowly turning back to their original black.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" Kenny lightly jokes, his laugh muffled by the high collar of his zipped up jacket. Damien doesn't even bother with a reply, instead focusing a hard glare in my direction.

"Why the fuck did you get arrested?" he hisses, "I would have thought a goody-two shoes such as yourself knew better than to speed down the road when a fucking cop is right there."

"You heard?" I ask, slightly shocked, as when Kenny left it had been very late. I had figured that the heat would have set in right when the blond got there. Especially since I didn't get a check-up call.

"Nooooo, really Pip?" he taunts, lips turned downwards in a snarl, "Of course I fucking heard! _Thanks_ for sending that bastard by the way. Like I really needed someone to try and fuck me when you were M.I.A. Next time just give me a call asshat."

My eyebrows narrow in confusion and anger. "You needed someone to look after you and take care of your…desire if need be," I calmly explain taking another sip of tea, "And, I couldn't call you. I don't know your number and I don't have a home phone. Now, please, calm down. There is no reason to be angry."

"I told you I don't trust anyone of those assholes on my phone," the devil spats.

"Well gee thanks," Kenny cuts in, "Not like I'm sitting right here or anything you know?"

Damien sighs and runs a hand down the side of his face. The wiry strands growing on his jaw contrasting sharply with the pale fingertips. "You know I don't mean you, asshat."

I pause. "Then, what's the problem with Kenny taking over for me for a bit?"

"Two reasons. One: it's fucking gross. Two: Bebe would kill me then him."

Pursing my lips I state, "So, it's gross if Kenny here does it but not when I have to deal with it? Then you say you don't trust any of your friends and acquaintances on your phone yet I found an entire glove box full of used condoms? Really, I'd like to know how your brain processes because I can't quite figure what you want out."

An awkward silence falls over the three of us, the anger from Damien replaced with shock. Kenny fidgets in his seat before stating, "I…actually didn't even touch him. When it started I offered but…yea, that's how your den and kitchen got the way it did."

"Kenny," Damien calls, voice unnervingly calm, "Can you please let Pip and I talk? Alone."

Immediately the blond jumps up and heads into the house. His voice calling back, "I'll see ya at school tomorrow Pippers!"

Kenny's footsteps fall away, the shutting of the front door just a muffled bang to my ears. Damien doesn't move from his spot but his eyes are no longer on me, instead shifting around the bare wall. I gesture to the now empty seat next to me and after a few moments the devil sits, the chair squeaking under his weight.

"I called your father," I state and when the young man doesn't reply I continue, "He said you're suppose to—"

"My dad doesn't know shit," he sharply cuts in.

"He's your father. A demon," I say with a sigh, "He's experienced on these things. Wouldn't it be best to follow that advice?"

The young man sighs and with a grave tone to his voice asks, "Look, if someone told you to sleep with any willing partner, cause misery and chaos wherever you go, and give the world hell would you?"

My grip on my cup tightens. "Well," I awkwardly begin, "It's different between you and me. You're the antichrist and I'm—"

"Just a regular human," he interrupts, "Yet, you don't exactly act like others think you should, correct? You mortals go against your own damn society and norms all the time. Why must I bend to my own?" I pause at his words. Having not really thought about it before. Before I can reply though Damien continues, his voice somber, "I'm going to destroy this fucking place one day. I'm not sure when or how but I will do it. That I cannot fight against, but I do have my own thoughts and beliefs."

I carefully process this new information, finding his words to be slightly…baffling. "What are these beliefs?"

Damien snorts. "I'm not into fucking harems that's for fucking sure. Keeping one bitch happy is hard enough. More than that? Fuck that. Sex is good but not that good. Keeping all those bitches happy would be miserable. I'd rather lock myself up with my Xbox."

I can't help but smile, amused at his explanation. "Really? I would have figured you would rather be out making trouble with your friends. You, Stan, Kenny, and Craig use to stay in trouble."

"Middle school maybe," he replies, "Now though there isn't anything to do in this damn god forsaken town. Plus, you should know that having the cops on your ass isn't fun. At all. Besides, all those bastards I hang out with aren't exciting either. Kenny is too nice, Stan is a bitch, and Craig is…Craig. The only truly exciting one is Eric and I'm not talking to that bastard for quite a long time."

"I see," I say, nodding my head in approval, "Then what's with all the used condoms in the glove box? Besides that being incredibly disgusting, you've apparently had several partners before. Three from what Kenny told me. Why wouldn't you call them up?"

Red flushes the teen's face and with a sheepish expression he says, "I thought I had cleaned them out. Shit. And, I won't call them up because, well, I'm no longer in contact with them." I raise an eyebrow in confusion and with a sigh Damien hisses out, "It didn't work out ok? Fuck, you gonna tell me about your past sex partners now?"

My heart stops. There's absolutely no way he could know about Estella. No one does. "M-my…?" I stutter, face turning red in embarrassment and shock, " I would never—"

"Like hell Pippers," Damien irritably interrupts, "Spill. The sin is stale but there, just like your wrath and pride."

My grip on my cup tightens and through clenched teeth I say, "We were in love. It was different."

"Love?" he asks, a bit of mockery in his voice, "What a good reason to hide behind. Though I don't see much difference. I cared and treated all my partners with respect. I wouldn't have bedded them without consent."

Anger boils in my chest at his response. "Consent?" I repeat, "You don't ask for bloody consent when it comes to me!"

Black eyes stare at me as I speak, unreadable and emotionless. Even when I fall silent that gaze stays on me and I meet it with a glare of my own—the anger inside steadily bubbling over.

"You gave consent when you told my dad you'd take care of me. Besides I haven't fucked you into the ground…yet."

"That is not consent! No you haven't…done that, but you still forced me to take drastic actions against you. Every single time you've jumped me! Only stopping—"

"I'm not myself when in that damn state!" he interrupts and the little bit of patience I have left snaps.

"Even so, I do not wish to help you out with such needs any longer!" I exclaim, my voice growing louder as my anger grows, "Find someone else to take care of it or I will bring someone over to do it!"

The evening air around us falls in an unsettling silence. Then slowly, Damien says, "You wouldn't fucking dare."

"Try me."

The young man purses his lips in thought. Weighing the possible outcomes and options presented to him. My empty hand balls up into a fist, the biting edge of my nails reminding me that I need to calm down. A proper gentleman wouldn't react in such a way, letting their anger control their actions and allowing their selves to say such outbursts. But, I feel as if I can let this one slide. Through this entire thing I've sheltered him and have gotten nothing but grief and shame. Though the boy isn't as bad as I had once thought he's still uncouth and vile. Gaining pleasure by watching me squirm through this entire thing while I'm left with conflicting thoughts and emotions. I thought about making this right in a way but now, I can't even bring myself to even try. Black eyes meet green and I anxiously await his answer.

"...What…can I do to change your mind?" Damien slowly asks, carefully choosing his words when speaking, "Name a price. It is yours."

"There isn't a bloody price, Damien," I scold, "You can't just try and buy your way out of this. Now, call up one of your friends or I'll find someone and God help you if you allow me to."

The devil falls silent for a few seconds, the gravity of the situation seeming to finally sink in for him. Then like a hushed whisper I hear him say, "Please?"

The word sounds alien on his tongue. The syllables all wrong as if he had never spoken it before. Like a foreigner trying to repeat a word they've heard over and over again with no idea of its context. My anger lessens at the sudden politeness and calmly I ask, "Please what?"

Another pause descends upon us before Damien whispers, "Please name a price?"

His voice is quiet but harsh. That foreign word rolling off his tongue in a way that brings slight peace to my mind. The devil won't even look me in the eyes now and I feel…smug. Which I find odd and out of place. I don't want to feel smug because of the young man's uneasiness. I'm above that. But as the feeling washes over me I can't help but reply, "Name a price? Fine."

Taking a deep breath I clear my mind. I'll have to ask for something that he wouldn't give, forcing him to take responsibility for this stage of his life. "If we are to continue this, I want," I slowly say, waiting a few seconds to give a thoughtful pause, "a date."

"A…date?" Damien questions, his face scrunching up in disbelief. I nod.

"Yes. A date," I repeat, "One for every time I have…taken care of you. It will set my mind at ease."

He lets out a humorless laugh. "You think a few date makes this whole damn thing ok?"

His question catches me off guard but with a low sigh I say, "It doesn't make it ok, but I would feel better about it."

"…I already said I don't do relationships."

I give him a hard look. "Take it or leave it."

_I know I just want this to make it seem ok. I know this is still wrong_, I bitterly think as the teen taps his chin in thought, _But it's the best way to go about this. To at least…pretend everything is all right. If he accepts it that is._

"Pip," Damien says holding his hand out to me, "You got yourself a deal."

* * *

**A/N: And, a deal with the devil is struck.**

**Well, with his son at least.**

**Here's the next chapter as promised for you guys. :) I hope you enjoy it and leave me review to tell me what you think. I'm off to go and finish up my schoolwork.**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I'm so sorry this took so long! :( I'm preparing for finals that are next week and November was just a big old mess of school work to do.**

* * *

The rest of the night passed by rather peacefully after that, the only little excitement being the sudden appearance of the worn out truck in the driveway. While I myself had been shocked, Damien simply shrugged about the incident. He had tried to get me to play one of his video games again but I had declined; too tired and needing to clear my head. It had been my turn to cook but the devil didn't even comment on this when he had to fix his own dinner. I suppose our earlier conversation made him forget. Softly closing the bedroom door behind me, I pull off my shirt and toss it onto the dresser before stepping out of my jeans to replace them with a pair of pajama pants. The bed squeaks slightly as I fall on it, and as I nuzzle up into my blankets and curl my body into a tight ball my hand unconsciously grazes over the burn marks on my hip and side.

_I made a deal with him_, I weary think, anxiety twisting around in the pit of my guts. Taking a deep breath I clear my mind and pull a pillow flush against my bare chest, enjoying the cool feel of the fabric surrounding me as I fall into the land of sleep.

When morning came I was awoken by the screech of my alarm. The rapid ding the bell makes on it making me want to chunk against the wall. However, as I stir something warm touches my back. I immediately jump away, titter tottering on the edge of the bed with most of the blanket clutched up in my fists. My alarm still blares as my morning grogginess quickly disappears and with wide eyes I stare in shock at the figure in curled up in my bed. I hastily slam my palm against the alarm clock, hitting the OFF button and silencing its cries before turning back towards Damien. He sleeps soundly on the other side of my bed, his back facing me. Not at all bothered by the alarm it seems. His sides fall slowly up and down in steady even breathing and I let out a sigh, not wanting to ponder on this right now.

As quietly as I can I make my way off the bed, grab the jeans I threw on the floor yesterday, a green graphic-T from my dresser, and some socks before heading into the bathroom. Making sure both bathroom doors are locked, I continue on with my morning routine of bathing and washing before pulling the clean clothes over my form. Damien still slumbers as I begin to make the morning tea and thoughts flicker to life in my mind. One in particular being: _What the dickens is Damien doing in my bed?_

I can't recall him coming in last night and I'm definitely sure his heat didn't come on. But, if I'm honest I can't bring myself to mind it. As long as he doesn't try anything with me during my sleep I don't mind the extra warmth. The whistling of the kettle jars me from my thoughts and grabbing an oven mitt I move it off the hot eye before placing the teabags inside. I watch the dark, cloudy weather through the dine window until the tea is done, and start to feel concerned when Damien still hasn't awoken until I remember that Satan had said the young man would be resting more now since his heat seems to be at an end. Despite this, I still open my bedroom door to check up on the young man before heading off to school. Just in case.

The clouds pour down rain as I drive and I nearly curse whenever I turn on the windshield wipers to find that they don't work.

_Of course with the disguise of being a rust bucket they won't_, I bitterly think as I pull into the student parking and turn off the truck. Pulling on my backpack I stare at the droplets cascading down the window, a shiver crawling up my spin.

_I really need to invest in an umbrella_.

Throwing the door open I dash out across the asphalt and into the school, the roar of thunder echoing through the sky as I enter.

* * *

A fist curls around the collar of my shirt, the appendage casually lifting me up into the air. My hands wrap around the meaty arm on reflex, trying to keep my airways open.

"O-oh, 'ello Eric," I nervously greet with a cough, my voice strained, "How are you today chap?"

"Is our project ready for tomorrow?" he asks, not at all returning my greeting. I give a quick nod and I'm drop to the floor, staggering back a couple of inches as I gain my bearings back. "Good," the brunette states, "Cause if it's not I'm punching your crooked teeth out and then making you eat them. One. By. One."

"Right-O!" I instinctively call out as he starts to walk away, "I promise its all ready to go!" As his form disappears around the corner I slide down the side of the locker, a breath of relief leaving me. I'll need to work on that project as soon as I get home. Last thing I need right now is that bully living up to his promises.

"Y-you ok-k-k?"

I snap my gaze to towards the stuttering voice but immediately relax when I see its Tweek. Giving him a wide smile I stand up and dust the dirt from my pants. "Oh, I'm fine, chap," I assure him, "Eric just roughed me up a bit is all. It's fine. I'm tougher than I look."

" Are y-you—ACK—sure? I-I can ask him to s-s-stop for you." My smile softens at the suggestion. Slightly shocked by it as well as both he and I know very well he wouldn't match up to Eric's weight. But, it's nice to know that there are at least still a few decent people living here.

"I'm sure," I say, "Er, about yesterday, I'm sorry for almost running into you. I was in a bit of a hurry."

The blond gives a shaky nod, his head moving in a fast erratic beat. "I noticed—ERK—w-why were you running so fast, dude? S-s-sweet Jesus man, I thought something w-was—ACK—running after ya and then coming after me!"

I give a heavy sigh. "That is a long story. But, in short, I got arrested—"

"ARRESTED?!" Tweek screams, "Too much, dude! Too much pressure! I can't be s-s-seen—ERK—talking with a convict!"

"Tweek, calm down!" I harshly whisper ignoring the growing stares from other students, "I'm not a convict. I promise you. I'm not. I just…I was speeding and they decided to make an example of me by having me stay in a cell overnight."

Brown eyes look at me uncertainly, blond eyebrows quirking in question and mistrust. His shivering tones down to small quivers and as his eyes flicker back and forth he whispers, "…so, you're n-not a convict?"

"Nope. Just an bloke down on his luck."

Tweek's form slouches in momentarily relief, a small smile forming on his face. "That's g-g-good." Brown eyes gaze back up me, a puzzled expression on his face. "But, why run h-home—ACK—so fast? D-do you have a p-p-pet?"

As I say, "No" my mind begins to buzz to life and quickly thinking of an answer I scrunch up my face and smoothly lie, "The jail cells are dirty and I really, really needed a shower is all." I nearly gag as the words fall from my lips, though I suppose I can't call it a lie either as that is kind of half the truth.

"O-oh, ok." The blond begins to fidget once more and slowly he starts, "I-I know we d-don't—ERK—usually t-t-talk outside of school, but would y-you like t-t-to hang out with Butter's and me Saturday?"

My eyes widen at the invitation. It's very rare for someone to try and include me in their activities after school. Not because they don't like me—though very few do—but most people just don't care and forget about me the moment the bell to end school rings. Besides that I usually don't have a way to get there even if I was invited, and I like being a wallflower. Attention is just something I've never craved. Although acceptance is another matter entirely.

"I'd love to," I happily reply, excitement bubbling in my gut, "Just tell me the time and place."

Tweek's smile widens as I accept. "Ok, we're going t-t-to Red R-Robin's at 5pm and possibly—ACK—head to the movies afterwards. B-Butter's can pick you up if you want."

I give a slight nod when the bell suddenly rings, signaling the small in-between class break to be over and for us to head back into our respected rooms. Giving the teen a wave good-bye I rush down the hall to Marine Biology; my spirits higher than they've been in days.

The rest of the day passes by in a flash, Butters being kind enough to write down the information for Saturday on a sheet of notebook paper for me during lunch. With a slight skip in my step I head towards my truck. Thoughts on what movie we would see making my gut bubble with excitement. It's been quite a while since I've been to the theatres and with how Damien has been helping me out these past few days I'll be able to afford it. He should be fine to stay home alone by the weekend if what Satan said is correct but I'll have to make sure to tell him just in case I may need to cancel. I don't want a repeat of what I came home to yesterday at all.

Walking up to the truck I stop mid-step when I see the bright orange standing near it. Kenny enthusiastically waves at me, a familiar curvy woman with curly sandy blonde hair by his side. I don't even need to see her face to know that it's Bebe. Besides the signature hairstyle that flows down her back like a lion's mane it's the nice business casual black skirt and pink blouse that gives her away. Nobody else dresses up as nice, not even teachers who work here. Though she and I have shared a few classes here and there while growing up I'm still unsure what to make of her, as our only conversation revolved around classwork. Still, even that small talk only started occurring around our freshman year and I can vaguely remember her not always being the kindest to me back in our elementary school days.

Hesitantly, I wave back before slowly continuing towards the vehicle; not liking the smirks mirrored on their faces.

"Good afternoon, Kenny, Bebe," I greet, "Can I…help you two?"

Bebe lets out a chuckle at an unknown joke and Kenny quickly shushes her before replying, "Can we catch a ride home Pip?"

I raise an eyebrow in suspicion. "I don't mind but," I turn my gaze towards the curvy blonde, "I thought you had a car Bebe."

"It's at the shop right now," she immediately replies, further raising my suspicions as I've seen her drive at least three different cars to school before, "It's just a simple oil change but I won't be able to get it until tomorrow morning before school."

I nod at her explanation, choosing to accept her words. "But, why ask me?" I inquire, "Why not Wendy or one of your other friends?"

Her pretty face falls at my words. Blue eyes turning unreadable as a frown pulls down her pink painted lips. "Fine," she bites out, "I didn't want to be so blunt but Wendy is pissed at me for speaking my mind on her relationship matters, when she asked for an opinion mind you, and thus I don't want anything to do with her or any of our friends at the moment." Bebe's face then softens as she looks at Kenny, her hand intertwining with the lanky teens. "So, instead Kenny and I are going to my place to hang out. Perhaps eat some ice cream, watch some movies, and me do our nails."

Both my eyebrows rise into my hairline in surprise at the last one and I look over at Kenny, silently asking if it was true. Kenny just shrugs and says, "She's really good at painting animals on my toenails, dude. Cats are my favorite."

I can't even think of a reply. Letting out a sigh in defeat I give them a bright smile and motion for them to hop into the truck, both instantly bolting into the back. I make my own way to the driver's side and quickly start up the truck. Not two minutes later down the road however I start to hear faint giggles and the sound of smacking lips.

"E-excuse me!" I call back, "Please keep your hands and whatever else to yourselves while riding, please. Thank you."

"Awwwww," I hear Kenny whine, "But that's not fair!"

"Sorry chap," I unenthusiastically say, "But I don't want to be forced to listen to that."

"Oh it was just some simple kissing," Bebe quickly intervenes, "Don't get your panties in a twist." I look up through my visor mirror to the backseat at the two. My gaze is immediately drawn to their bare interlocked hands, noting the striking differences between her well-manicured ruby red colored fingernails with his boney, blocky finger structures.

"Hey Pip," Kenny suddenly says tearing my eyes away from their hands, "How your _cat_ doing?" I raise an eyebrow in confusion.

"Cat? I don't own a cat Kenny."

The blond boy lets out a sigh. "Oh come on Pippers! You've had it for a week now and it's a very persnickety little thing. I had to watch over it while you were away remember?"

"Oh…" I slowly say, his words finally having some understanding, "That little furball is just peachy. Though grumpy as usual."

Bebe lets out a small laugh, obviously oblivious to the true subject of our conversation. "Cats are always like that. You learn to love it. What'd you name your little furry friend?"

I give a small grin at her comment. Finding a little humor in her not being in the loop. "Freckles. Though from his behavior it should have been Trouble."

Kenny bellows with laughter and Bebe gives him a pointed look but the thin young man continues to cackle, unbuckling his seatbelt to lean over my seat. "Well, just so you know I'm stopping by Saturday to visit the little fluff ball. Round 5 o'clock if that's ok?"

I nod. "That's fine. I've got plans to go out anyway that evening. I'll need someone to watch over him for me."

"Since when have you two been hanging out?" Bebe asks, her tone genuinely curious and lacking the bitterness I'm use to from our classmates.

"We have Marine Biology together," Kenny smoothly explains, his voice pulling me from my thoughts, "Needed help one night and bing-bang-boom found out he's not so bad."

The rest of the ride is filled with idle chatter as Bebe gives me directions to her place. Slowly, I start to feel myself relax and talk more freely; making comments here and there on various subjects. But, as I pull up to her house my words become caught in my throat and worry leaks into my mind. Butters sits hutched over on her front steps, his shoulders rising and falling in short burst as if crying.

Kenny quickly exits the car and runs over to the blond male, trying to console the young man out of whatever distress had happened. I look back at Bebe for an explanation but she only sighs and shrugs. As she exits the truck I sit there, tightly gripping the wheel. Caught between exiting the truck to check up on Butters and driving home. Awkwardly I shuffle in my seat and roll down the window.

"Um, is everything ok?" I ask, calling Kenny's attention towards me.

He and Bebe exchange a few words before she walks Butters inside the house. A sour expression twists up Kenny's face as he walks over to me, his words short and chipped. "Yea, it's fine. Just family problems and shit. I can't believe his folks sometimes." I recoil at the intensity of his voice and with a sigh the young man continues, "Thanks for the ride Pip but it's ok. You can head on home."

And with that he walks inside the house.

* * *

My movements become sluggish as I pull into the drive and exit the truck. The early scene replaying in my mind making me ponder on if I should have tried to stay. Letting out a sigh, I try to calm my mind and unlock the front door. I'm already home so there's no use in worrying now. Even so, I should check in with the poor boy tomorrow at school. Just to make sure everything is all right.

I don't even get halfway through the doorframe before pausing mid-step, not sure whether to be confused or amused. Damien stands beside the kitchen counter a movie in each hand, not even seeming to sense my presence. A rather nice black button up shirt with rolled up sleeves clings fittingly around his slender lightly muscled form, not a single wrinkle in the fabric, and a pair of nice blue jeans cover his hips and legs. The beard that had been growing on his face the past few days is gone, his skin clean-shaved. Even his hair seems to be more tamed, the strands combed and damp as he had just stepped out of the shower. The smell of aftershave and his fading scent waft into my nose and unconsciously I blurt out, "What are you all dressed up for?"

The demon-child jumps in surprise and snaps his head in my direction. Placing the movies on the counter he raises an eyebrow in confusion and replies, "For our date. Why the hell are you late getting home?"

"D-date?" I ask, "What? Now?"

Damien rolls his eyes and nods, folding his arms over his chest. "Yea tonight. I want to get through this fucking thing as quickly as possible. Now, why the hell are you late getting home?"

"Oh, um, I had to give Kenny and Bebe a ride to her house."

He gives a short curt nod. "Two are probably off fucking then."

I narrow my eyes in disgust. Taking off my hat, coat, and shoes I sigh, "Do you have to use such foul language?"

A cocky smile forms on his lips and with a snort he says, "Oh, I'm so ashamed. I meant the two are probably off participating in mutual intercourse. Better princess?"

Ignoring the last statement I walk pass him to the Marine Biology supplies lying in the corner of the kitchen. Grabbing the bag I place it on the small table and begin to pull out the supplies from the plastic bag. "I'm sorry, but I can't do the date tonight. We'll have to wait till tomorrow. I have a project I need to do."

Immediately I can feel his eyes burning a hole in the back of my skull. As I take out the black matt board to do the project on a firm hand grips my shoulder and twists me around, the black board falling to the ground with a soft thud. Damien's eyes are narrowed, a scowl turning his lips into a frown.

"We are going to have this date," he slowly says voice dangerously low, "Just one movie and that is all. You can do the project later. Got it?"

I open my mouth to say no but quickly clamp it shut as the frown grows on his face. His black eyes spark red and exhaling deeply I nod. Like the flick of a switch a wide toothy grin forms on his face and he backs away, giving me back my personal space.

"Great!" he exclaims holding up both of the movies to me, "Now, which do you want to watch? _Godzilla_ or _Teeth_?"

Glancing at both of the titles I feel my posture slump and bend. Neither looks particularly interesting to me—the teeth one especially unnerving with the sharp canines aligning the rose's center.

"Are there any other choices?" I casually inquire.

The devil-child hums in thought before placing the movies back on the counter, and motions for me to follow him to the den. Reluctantly I do, abandoning the supplies on the table and find myself stand beside a rather small, slim cabinet I'd never notice before. With an almost inaudible click it opens revealing four columns of more movies than I've ever seen in my life.

"When did you get all of these?" I ask, shocked by the collection.

Damien lets out a short laugh. "Just some that were grabbed from my house along with my other stuff. This pile is fucking small compared to the collection I got back at home. That shit takes up an entire closet."

_An entire closet? Surely he's exaggerating._

I look back at the many titles, overwhelmed with the different selections and choices to make. Almost robotically I reach out and pull out one, the title reading _The Green Mile_. As I turn the case over to read the summary on the back the noirette snatches it from my hands and pops it into the DVD player.

"I didn't say I wanted to watch that just yet," I comment.

Damien shrugs. "It's a good film. You'll like it."

I'll admit I was a bit miffed by his behavior when the film started but soon got wrapped up in the story. While we shared the quilted blanket each of us sat on the opposite end of the couch, only our lower legs touching. Surprisingly the devil-child was silent throughout the film, not a single snicker or smart comment. Looking over I stifle a laugh at the wide glossy-eyed look on his face, the end of the blanket pulled up over his chin and lips.

I turn my attention back to the TV, engrossed in the film. But as they strap the man to the electric chair I can't help but become tense. The command is given to flip the switch and I kick out on reflex, a muffled scream rumbling in the back of my throat.

"Ow!" Damien yells out, red eyes narrowing in on me, "What the actual fuck Pip?"

"Sorry," I hastily apologize, "I-I was just a little startled."

He rolls his eyes and throws the blanket from his legs. Before I can blink the young man crawls up behind me and nearly pushes me off the couch, my back now flushed against his chest. My heart begins to rapidly beat, my thoughts running a mile a minute—the film forgotten. As he pulls the blanket back over us I inquire, "What the dickens do you think you're doing?"

"Cuddling. Now move your boney ass."

I lay there motionless, trying to make sense of the situation when a warm hand pushes at my lower back. Shocked, I gasp and lurch forward. Successfully rolling off the furniture and onto the floor with a thud. Letting out a small groan I push my face and shoulders from the floor, narrowing my eyes at the amused devil on the couch.

"I was going to move," I snap.

"You already fucking did," Damien comments with a crooked smile, "You going to get up? We still have about an hour of movie left."

Huffing in irritation I push myself from the floor and sit back in the middle of the couch, Damien's legs behind me. He huffs and pulls the blanket closer, wrapping the quilt around him like a cocoon.

"Well then," he scoffs, "fuck you too Pippers."

I send him an odd look. "Are you…upset that I'm not cuddling with you?"

"Fuck no," the devil sharply replies, turning his attention back to the film. I raise an eyebrow at his fickle attitude. Puzzled by this odd bit of behavior.

"Why are you…do you really want to do that?" I seriously ask, pushing the subject further along. Damien's eyes shine red in a warning and I tense in response. Taking a deep breath to steel my nerves, I bravely continue, "It's just very…um, odd for you."

Damien bolts up from his spot, nearly colliding his head with mine. Red eyes bore into mine—the smell of aftershave and his faint scent assaulting my nose.

"Look nancy-boy. I'm doing my best here. I don't know what the fuck a date is suppose to be like. I actually had to research this shit. Like damn schoolwork or something. What I found said there should be cuddling or some other physical shit. Now. Drop. It."

I can't help it. I laugh. Just the thought of how much time and thought the young man had put into this a little humorous, especially given his personality. However, Damien does not find it to be as funny as I, and, in less than three seconds, I'm pushed flat on my back against the cushions of the couch. A low growl rumbles in the back of the noirette's throat, his hands gripping each of my arms and holding me in place.

"Why the fuck are you laughing?" he hisses, pink lips pulling back in a feral snarl.

I sink deeper into the couch at the frightening display and, before I can rethink my words, blurt out, "Because it's cute!"

The young man freezes. His face softens in confusion and I feel heat rush to my face. Slowly, the snarl turns into a small smile. The devil lets out a small laugh and falls back against the arm of the couch, placing his hands behind his head as those red eyes fade to black.

"Cute? Well, that's fucking new."

My body relaxes when I hear the humor in his voice, letting out a breath of relief. Damien laughs again, harder and louder this time; his body curling into itself. A smile begins to form on my face as well as the laughter continues, the uncomfortable tension from before easing away.

Gradually, a comfortable silence falls on us—the movie forgotten and merely white noise to fill the space. Almost childishly his pushes his black sock clothed foot onto my white one. His leg pushing mine back till my own leg bends. A cocky smile grows on the young man's face and looking me in the eye he says, "I win."

I raise an eyebrow and experimentally push back, his leg tensing up as I push. Increasing the pressure and strength I forcibly move the appendage back, both of our legs shaking. Though incredibly stupid and childish, I can't find it in me to care; our eyes never losing contact except to blink. A half-hearted scowl forms on his face and suddenly I'm pushing on nothing but air.

In the blink of an eye the devil-child sits up and grips my green shirt in his pale hands. Pulling me up before he falls back, bringing me down to ungracefully flop down on him. Instinctively, I land arms out, a hand on each side of his head; the grip on my shirt pulling me down to where we're face to face. His nose brushes against mine and I can feel my face flush from the sudden close contact.

Our eyes immediately connect, his hooded as small specks of red play around the edge of the irises. My breath catches in my throat when I feel his hands move. One rising up and caressing my neck before lightly gripping the hair on the nape of my neck, while the other slides onto my lower back. Hot breath ghostly over my lips and almost faintly I can begin to see a pink flush form on the young man's cheeks.

With unexpected force Damien pulls me down, his chest flush with mine. I yelp at the abrupt action, my face pressed into the side of his neck. A deep chuckle echoes in my ear, his lips so close I can feel them move against the skin. The devil deeply sighs and mumbles, "Cute."

The strange gentle hold the noirette has on me slightly tightens and I gasp in shock when I feel his lips on my neck. A shiver racks up my spine as the fangs graze against the tender flesh, the soft but lingering pressure his mouth leaves making my mind reel. Strange words roll off his tongue and into my ear, their pronunciation rough but swirling with foreign emotion.

I try to gingerly push myself away but strong arms just hold me in place, and I begin to feel myself fall into the warm embrace. As the kisses begin to lower to the crook of my neck I suck in a sharp intake of breath between clenched teeth. The nerves that are struck buzzing with pleasure, chasing the small fears away from my thoughts.

The hand in my hair begins running it's fingers through the strands, curling sharply back into the roots as it pushes me closer against Damien's lips. The hand on my lower back moves under my shirt and up and down my spine, the soft ends of his fingers making my muscles twitch. My own hands creep up into the young man's hair, the fingers becoming entangled in the soft mess.

"D-Damien," I softly say, a sharp intake of breath making his chest swell and rise, "Please stop…"

Instantly, the kissing halts and the devil-child pulls my head away from the crook of his neck—our noses once again touching. I had expected to see a scowl on his features or at least slight irritation, but nothing harsh shows on the young man's face. A deep red flush colors his cheeks and neck, and I freeze; the arousal in my lower gut fluttering to life and sending electric shocks through my limbs and heart.

All at once I can feel his every move: every muscle twitch, the rise and fall of his chest, the rapid beating of his heart, and the hardened warmth in his jeans. The heat on my face increases and I'm positive we mirror each other with the redness on our faces. Taking a deep breath, Damien slightly sits up and presses his lips to my forehead.

I can't move nor speak as the soft flesh brushes over my eye and cheek. Lips ghost over the corner of my lips, hooded black eyes sparking red as they stare into mine. My throat closes as I try to speak, unable to form the words. All I can think is how easy it would be to turn my head. To just turn it and feel those lips against mine.

Cautiously, I cock my head, my lips hovering over his. The remaining shambles of my mind cloud over as that alluring scent drawls me in, lulling me to close my eyes shut. But, as I lean forward it's not lips I feel.

Opening my eyes in confusion and feeling slightly miffed I find Damien's hand blocking me from him. The edges of the devil's eyes crinkle in delight and with a groan he sits up, bringing me with him. Removing his hand from my lips, the young man gently pushes me off and stands, raising his hands to the ceiling to stretch.

"I'm tired," the young man states turning off the TV and DVD player, "I'm going to hit the sack early tonight. I'll tell you ahead of time when the next date will be."

I watch him go, bewildered by the sudden turn of events. A smirk lingers on his face. Then, with a bit of bravo the demon-child turns and gives me a short wave before disappearing down the hall; the door to his room clicking as it's locked. I sit there, stunned and frustrated. My pants suddenly a little too tight for comfort and my mind left in a mess. It is then that a fact occurs to me. There had been no horns, tail, or claws…

_What the dickens just happened?_

* * *

**A/N: Was that as awkward for you guys to read as it was for me to write?**

**I can't write fluff. Hell I can't even do romance in real life. Closest thing I get to being romantic is sharing my chocolate with someone and telling them they look pretty.**

**I love how this is developing though and I hope you guys are too. Let me know what you think by reviewing and (if you want) show me a bit of love by either following or favoriting. Hope to hear from you guys. :)**


	12. Chapter 12

**EDIT: To TwinkleTwinkle:**

**Since I can't personally message you, I'll just answer your question here.**

**Unfortunately there will be no Bunny in this fanfic. It's not that I don't like that couple but I want this fanfic to focus more on Damien and Pip so most characters in this fanfic will be straight. There is another couple (?) of sorts but it'll only be hinted at. It makes me really happy that you're enjoying the story so far, and I hope that I'll be able to keep it enjoyable for you. :) **

**A/N: I'm going to try and update a chapter every Friday of December now that I don't have finals to worry about. Try being key word here. Haha**

**Also, I want some more dates ideas. If you guys have any please PM me them. I'd rather you PM me than put them in the reviews.**

* * *

My mind stayed in a fuzz the rest of the time I was up that night; the oddity of the date leaving me unable to clearly think—though if I'm honest I didn't want to think about it all. However, the project for Marine Biology was quickly done—although sloppily—and placed against the door by my coat for tomorrow. Our morning had started the way it usually did, with me waking up to Damien making tea and the both of us having breakfast in silence. But, it's only now, after a full nights rest, that I begin mull over the events of last night, shuffling in my seat in discomfort as a result. The devil sitting across from me, however, doesn't seem bothered in the slightest, his attention on flipping through a newspaper article on his IPhone.

Turning my attention back to the short story novel before me, I idly sip my tea and try to concentrate on the words before I have to go off to school. Unfortunately, the story just can't seem to capture my attention today and I feel my mind start to drift through old memories like one does a scrapbook.

It had been 7th grade when the devil had come back to South Park, Colorado. I remember seeing him at the yearly orientations to make sure all the school fees were paid and everything was arranged. Like me, Damien had been alone. Not a single adult stood beside him and I had been so excited. It had been around 6th grade that the other children began to slow down on their taunts, not seeming to care if I was there or not. Of course, there were a few who would talk to me while at school, but I had no one I could truly call friend. It hadn't seemed like a bad idea at the time to try and reconnect with the noirette, the scars on my side forgotten.

The devil-child had been very confused when I had approached him. His changing voice cracking as he had asked, "Who the fuck are you?"

It didn't take much to jog his memory as I said, "Oh, um, I'm Phillip. T-though people tend to call me Pip."

In just a few seconds, his face had lightened up in realization—a toothy smile forming on the still plush child-like round face. We had done orientation together that day and conversed about any topic we could think of. This continued even when the school year started and I can vividly recall the giddiness I had felt, despite the few who would snicker at me and make fun of me behind my back. On really bad days, the devil-child would find me trapped in a janitor's closet, but we would never push that subject further than the general question of if I was ok. But, as much as we had conversed at school we never did anything afterwards or on holidays and weekends—Damien's usual group of friends the same as todays.

Still, it had been me he would have lunch with and talk to in the afterschool tutoring programs—I being there waiting on my sister to pick me up. Vaguely, I remember a few times that school year the devil had tried to get me to join track with him. A sport he had boasted about and even continued in our early years of high school for a while. I, unfortunately, would have to decline every time; knowing my sister would throw a fit if I did.

It had been towards the end the school year when summer was just a few days away that I had asked him, "Can we be friends?"

The look on his face had been unreadable, a mixture of too many emotions to name. His answer had been harsh.

"Friends? Fuck no."

My world had been crushed. I had fled, ran out a pair of side doors at the end of the hall and into the woods lining the edge of the school. I didn't see him all that summer and when it was time for school again I had ignored him. Going out of my way to not cross our paths, still hurt by what he had said. It wasn't until gym one day that we finally saw each other face-to-face; as there was only so long I could hide from him in a room where we're all suppose to be. The adolescent had been cross, a scowl on his face. With a curse he had pants me, revealing my scars and lower half to the whole 8th grade male body.

It was then that he had begun to go out of his way to degrade me and bully me. Unleashing his frustration in the form of cruel words…and fists when I started to ignore those too. This violence of course decreased as the years went by, but I never believed we'd be civil, or semi-civil, again. Yet, here we are.

Letting out a low sigh, I finish up my cup and get up to place it in the sink. Turning back to the noirette I say, "I'm going out with Tweek and Butters tomorrow for the movies."

Damien's tapping on the screen pauses but with a shrug of his shoulders he replies, "What time? Kenny and I are still doing horror movie night. If you get back in enough time you can join us, I guess."

"They're supposed to be picking me up at five in the evening. Tweek mentioned something about going out to eat afterwards…oh, dear…"

The chair squeaks as the young man turns to face me and I freeze on the spot.

_Would the plans still be one with whatever had happened Butters yesterday?_

"What is it?" the devil asks, eyeing me suspiciously.

"Um, when I dropped Kenny and Bebe off Butters had been crying on Bebe's front porch," I softly say, feeling my guilt about the poor boy return, "I didn't know what to do, so when Kenny told me to go home I did. Oh dear, I hope the poor lad is alright."

Damien is silent for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and returning to his IPhone. "He'll be fine. Just ask him about it. This kind of shit happens all the time with him. Folks are a bunch of fucking maniacs."

I tense at that. _Just how oblivious have I been over the pass few years to not notice this?_

Giving a short nod, I clear my throat, walk over to the door, and pull on my hat, coat, and shoes. Grabbing my project and backpack I pause and look back over my shoulder, my eyes widening in shock when I notice a pair of red irises on me. "Um," I awkwardly state, pointing towards the door with my thumb, "I'm off to school…"

Damien raises an eyebrow. "Obviously."

I stand there, feeling a shiver rack up my spine. Unconsciously, my eyes flicker down to his lips and back up to his eyes. A small smile grows on his face and getting up to place his cup in the sink the devil says, "Get your ass to school. Don't want to be late on the last day."

* * *

"Are you sure you're alright lad?" I ask the blond before me, having to slightly look up in order to meet his bright blue eyes. Butters nods and the smile on his angular face widens in joy.

"I'ma alright Pip," he happily replies, patting my on the back, "Thanks for askin' though. Dad was just a little mad. I hate it when he gets mad. Luckily, I'm not grounded from the movie tomorrow, but Tweek will be getting us a ride now. I'm grounded from using the car until I learn how to behave myself."

His soft voice falls away at the last statement, eyes looking down at the ground as his knuckles brush together nervously. My heart falls in pity for the young man and I awkwardly stand there, unsure of what to say. But, abruptly the young man's posture straightens and the smile is back on his face.

"I have to get on to class. Cya tomorrow at five Pip!"

Without looking back he dashes down the hall and I'm left feeling as if I should have said more. Thankfully I'm not left to my thoughts for long, as the class bell cuts through my worry and with a start I take off down the hall to Marine Biology—Eric's and my project in hand. Whispering an apology I push my way through a group of students loitering by the door and fall into my assigned seat by the front of the class; just a few seconds before the tardy bell rings.

Ms. Filly gives me a pointed look but slowly stands and says, "Pass your assignments forward please. You all may spend the remaining time as you please. Have a nice summer and stay out of trouble." Giving a sigh of relief I pass the assignment forward and fall back limp in my seat; glad that school is almost over.

Every other class hadn't been a problem when it came to finals, but I didn't really expect a challenge from the school. It's surprising we have any math and science past the basic requirements to me honestly, as most people are going to be stuck in this small town anyway. Following in their parents footsteps and taking over family business. It's like a cycle that never ends. I just hope that I won't become trapped here a well. Forever struggling in the muck and by my miracle perhaps one day have some children of my own. Though, that might be considered a cruel and selfish thing of me to do, as I doubt that they'd be treated well. The dislike this present generation holds for me taught to their own offspring and creating another cycle of destruction.

Running a hand through my hair I grab my hat and place it on my desk, closing my eyes as I try and calm my derailing thoughts. Now, I just need to attend the graduation ceremony and plan out whether to: move out and find a part-time job or polish up the short stories I've been writing over the years and try to find a publisher who'll take me in.

Suddenly, a meaty hand grabs ahold of my shoulder and jumping in surprise I turn to find Eric's eyes on me, an unfriendly smile on his face.

"Y-yes Eric?" I politely ask, "Do you need something?" His smile widens and I have to resist throwing his hand off.

"Don't look so scared there Frenchy," he says, thankfully removing his hand, "I'm just happy to see that you've held up your side of the deal and so have I, but now that it's over I need a few, let's say, favors."

Narrowing my eyes in suspicion I slowly ask, "What…favors?"

Eric sits back in his seat, folding his hands neatly on the wooden surface of the desk. Like a business man about to offer a life changing proposal. "Nothing big but I need a chauffeur. Someone who: is able to keep quiet, has loads of free time, and under my thumb." My thoughts begin running a mile a minute.

_Oh God…what could he have on me?_

I pale, feeling my blood run cold.

_No…has he seen Damien and me together too?_

Eric chuckles. "By the look on your ugly face you've figured out that I know your little dirty secret. Damn Pippers," he pauses, digging out a picture from his bag, "I never knew you were such a little slut."

Shaking I take the facedown picture from his hands, not turning it up till it's clenched between my fists. A gasp leaves my lips when I see it and I take a sharp intake of breathe, my hands shaking even worse. It's of me exiting the sex shop. Though a little fuzzy there's no doubt that the figure in the picture is me. I clench it up into a tight ball and glare at the stronger male. The brunette laughs.

"Go ahead and keep that one as a souvenir. I've got an entire box full at home. I have to say though I'm surprised. You always seemed too uptight to do such a thing, but perhaps that's just because you always have a dildo shoved up your ass."

He laughs again and I feel the anger inside bubbling in my chest. But, calmly I ask, "Why do you need a chauffeur?"

"That will be revealed when I need you, fag." Saying that he pulls a black flip-phone from his bag before throwing it at me, the device thankfully landing safely in my lap. "I'll contact you through that," Eric continues, pulling out his PSP, "Bought it with prepaid minutes so don't go calling people. If I find out you use it to even call one person I will take payment in the form of my fist connecting with your fucking face."

A shiver of fear racks up my spine and I quickly pocket both the crumpled picture and phone. "Right-o chap!"

* * *

With the speed of a snail I trudge through the front door and into the house. Almost robotically I take off my coat, shoes, and hat and place them in their designated places before locking the front door; the events and tests today having drained me of all energy. My shoulders slouch with a heavy weight as I feel the phone in my pocket, weighing my opinions on what to do. I have to do as Eric asks while he stills holds the photos and, perhaps, the negatives as well. Stuff spreads so quickly these days. There's no doubt in my mind that the consequences of not doing what he asks will be dire. Hopefully after I drive him a few times he'll get bored and move on. Letting out a heavy sigh I look over at the den, surprised to find it bare.

_Very suspicious…_ I think, straightening my posture as I head down the hall to Damien's makeshift room. Pausing at the door, faint rustling comes from the other side and I tense. _Did he…bring someone over?_

Staring at the door a few seconds more, I timidly bring my fist up and knock on the door, calling out, "Damien? May I come in, please?"

The rustling momentarily stops and muffled through the door I hear him reply, "I don't care. It's your fucking house."

At his reply I grab the knob and twist it open, not prepared for the mess I find inside. Both of the kitchen table chairs have been carried back here. The deep red comforter lies messily across the floor, while the two chairs hold up the full-sized mattress, a red sheet draped across the top and falling to the floor. Four pillows are spread out in the interior of the odd contraption. One held under Damien's chest as he lays belly first across the ground, a book laying open before him—the entire odd arrangement of objects creating a sort of cushioned cave around the devil-child.

"Ummm…" I start raising an eyebrow in confusion, "What is this?"

Damien turns the page of the book before looking up at me, an aggravated expression on his face. "A pillow fort, dumbass. For a smart guy you ask a lot of dumb questions."

Ignoring the last statement, I walk over to the fort and sit down in front of the entrance, my fingers rubbing the comforter as I pick it up in my hand. Black eyes watch me curiously for a second or two before a toothy smile breaks out on the devil-child's face. Picking up his phone, Damien begins to mash the touch-screen buttons; a low click resounding with every touch.

"This one isn't shit compared to the one's Kenny and I have made before," the young man says, handing me his phone, "Check that shit out."

Taking the device my eyes widen in both amazement and shock at the picture of another pillow fort. It was huge! Several blankets hung in the air by what I could see to be fish line while a circle of chairs helped to widen the space where the blanket's fell. A mattress surrounded by a sea of pillow sat in the middle of the fort; white Christmas lights circling the inside and giving the outside a warm glow. But, the picture wasn't that old, taken just a few weeks ago according to the date under the picture.

"That took us two hours to make," Damien continues, taking the phone back, "And, that's not counting us moving food, extra blankets, and other shit in there. We're hoping to make an even bigger and more impressive one as soon as summer gets here. Thinking about asking Craig to help us but if he comes then so will Tweek. Not to say I don't like the caffeine addict but he's not good at keeping secrets. He'll blurt it out to everyone."

I stay quiet as the young man continues to talk. The noirette complaining about how he needs to find new friends who don't get pissy when not invited to something and how he can't wait to be out of this town.

"What do you want to do after graduation, Damien?" I ask, cutting him off midsentence. The devil hums in thought, running a hand down his stubble covered jaw.

"Don't know," he finally answers, "No one ever asked. I'm supposed to bring about the world's fucking destruction, remember? Ultimately, what I want doesn't mean shit."

"Oh…" I trail off as Damien turns his attention back to the book, flipping another page. "What if you didn't have to do that?" I ask, "What would you do?"

The young man tenses and slowly looks back up at me. His eyebrows quirk in confusion, lips twisting into a frown as he inquires, "Why do you give a fuck?"

I open my mouth to reply but quickly shut it. Why do I care? After this is said and done we'll go our separate way…possibly not back to our bully and victim roles with each other but separate ways. My heart begins to feel heavy at the thought.

"I don't know," I honestly reply, "I guess, I'm just curious."

Damien's eyes slightly narrow and with a snort he says, "I'll answer your question if you answer mine."

Humming, I weigh my options before nodding my head in agreement. Besides, what's the worst thing he can ask?

"If you have to choose between getting fucked in the ass with a banana or having to fuck a goat, which would you choose?"

I reeled back in shock, feeling my face twist up in disgust. "What kind of question is that!"

A smirk forms on the others lips. "A serious one."

I huff in response, crossing my arms over my chest and straightening my back.

"I'm not answering that."

Damien nods and turns his gaze back down towards the book. "Then I'm not answering your question."

With a frown I glance at the book laying open between us and immediately grab it with a gasp. Closing it shut and holding it close to my chest.

"Hey! I was reading that asshole!"

_This is my book…I wrote it by hand, word for word. Why is he reading it?_

A spark of fear crawls from the stem of my mind spreading through the grey mass like a disease and I clench the thick journal tighter. My distress must be clearly showing on my face because the aggravation on Damien's minimally lessens, curiosity taking its place. Black eyes drift down to the book, lingering there momentarily before looking back up at me.

"What are you freaking out about?" he asks.

"T-this is my book," I slowly answer my voice but a whisper, "I wrote it. No one's suppose to read it…"

The devil's confusion increases, his face scrunching up in disbelief. "Why are you writing a book that no one's suppose to read? Seems like a waste of time."

Shrugging my shoulders I gaze down at the floor, my heart beating rapidly in its cage. A few moments of silence pass between us before Damien sighs, "If I had it my way I would probably be a fitness coach after spending a few years traveling the globe."

"Pardon?" I say, perplexed by the sudden statement.

"If I could do the shit in life that I want to do."

I turn my gaze back up to his. "A fitness coach? Why that?"

The young man shrugs. "I like to exercise, and I'd get paid to do that everyday. There's the downside of having to help someone else into shape, but I don't necessarily have to be all fucking nice-nice to them."

I remain silent for a while. An image of an older more mature Damien helping an over weight middle-aged man get into shape playing in my mind. If he's just as cruel as he usually is… A shiver racks up my spine. Dear lord…

"I do hope you would at least be…eh, lenient?" I offer, a smirk forming on the young man's face.

"Depends on the amount of cash," he replies, "I often find the more pressing the matter the harder people work." Then slowly that familiar smirk falls, replaced with a frown. Black eyes gaze back at the ground and with a sigh he continues, "I'll have to leave for Harvard Law after school here. I've already received my acceptance letter and full ride scholarship. From there…never mind. It doesn't matter."

His voice drifts off as he speaks, going from informative to sullen. Black eyes look back up at me. Pointing a finger at the notebook in my arms, the young man says, "You should take that to a publisher after graduation. A good one. Don't go cheap just because you think it's not ready."

My heart flutters at his indirect praise. Tightening my grip on the book I nod and the smirk returns to his face.

"Where…do you think we'll be in five years?" I ask, surprised with myself for asking such a pointless question.

He shrugs. "If I play my cards right I'll be able to graduate early or with just a year left with a lawyers degree. You…" Damien trails off, scratching his chin. "Hmm, maybe an author? Most likely though you'll be working at a minimum wage workplace."

I narrow my eyes at him. "Glad to hear you think so highly of me."

Damien shrugs and the smirk morphs into a Cheshire cat smile. "Well, since I'm going to be a very valuable part of a prissy community and well off one day I could use a butler. Positions are open."

"No thank you."

"Ah, come on Pippers. You have the all the damn requirements. Your British and…British."

"Being British doesn't make me butler material," I huff.

His smile widens, revealing the rows of sharp fangs. "How about being a nanny then?"

I immediately stand. Having quite enough of this nonsense. "Excuse me but I'm going to head on to bed," my words are short, almost bitter as I speak, "Good night."

As I turn to walk away, two hands clasp around my ankle. With a slight yank back I instinctively flex out my arms to cushion my fall, thankfully managing to regain my balance before my palm can even hit the ground. With narrowed eyes I snap my head back towards the demon-child, that wide smile still on his lips. Pressing my lips into a thin line I count back from ten, my patience dwindling low.

"Please let go of my ankle, Damien."

His right hand tightens its grip and slowly his left hand glides up my shin onto my thigh. Placing my book on the ground, I try to pry off the offending hand but it only grabs my wrists instead.

"Let go!" I exclaim.

Damien gives a strong pull and I fall to the ground, wincing when the floor hits my hipbone. "You should sleep here for tonight," he lightly comments, pulling me back, "It'll be Saturday so we can sleep in."

I snatch my wrist back, pushing at the hand still wrapped around my ankle with my free foot. "Thank you but I want to sleep in my own bed!"

A soft growl meets my ears and the young man suddenly lunges forward and grabs me by my shirt collar, dragging me back into the fort with a thump. Fear swirls in my thoughts when I see his black eyes spark red, and I push back with all my might as I'm pulled flushed to his side. Warm hands finger through my hair and under my shirt, up my back leaving trails of fire in their wake. Sharp teeth graze against the pale flesh of my neck, my breathing hitching when I feel the pulsing heat of his arousal pressing into my abdomen.

"I'm afraid you won't be getting any sleep tonight, Pippers," he bitterly chuckles.

* * *

**A/N: So, the goat or the banana? :D**

**Did anything sound off about Damien to you guys?**

**I just want to make sure that I'm keeping him in character. And, it's hard to keep up after staring at letters and words for hours.**

**Love this? Like it? Have a part you hate? Leave a review so I can know.**

**As always, thanks for reading!**

****South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone****


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Seems we have a lot of banana lovers here. ;)**

**Also, thank you everyone for your comments on the last chapter, they really made me smile. :) **

* * *

My heart begins to beat erratically as feverish kisses are pressed against my neck. Those warm lips awakening my senses and fanning the flames of desire in my gut, consuming me like a potent poison. Making me burn from the inside out and filling me with anxiety, desire, and fear. A small groan leaves my lips when he reaches the crook of my neck, lightly biting the sensitive skin.

"You're going to owe me another date," I comment, voice but a whisper in his ear. The motions on my neck increase, pain shooting through my nerves as he bites and sucks on the flesh. Each movement pulls me further under his hold, but I only wrap my arms around him in response. A small voice berates me in the back of my mind as warm hands begin to run up and down my sides. The unfamiliar and odd sensation of warmth then absence of touch as fingers glide over my burn mark and skin jarring me awake when I find myself being lulled into the devil's embrace.

The mouth on my neck lets go of the skin with a soft pop before warm lips trail up to my cheek. A light chuckle echoes in my thoughts but I can' seem to focus on this as warm breath tickles my ear. "You're going to want to wear a high collar shirt tomorrow," Damien comments in a low steady voice before I feel his teeth graze against my ear.

The amusement was clear in his voice and slight irritation claws through my veins. Unhooking my arms from around his back, I drag my finger up over his shoulders and neck into the black locks. Like before, the strands are soft to the touch and curiously I graze my thumbs over the shell of his ears. Damien shivers at the touch, red eyes half-closed from what I see out of the corner of my eye. A frown forms on my face though when my thumbs fall behind his ears. Not feeling a single bump or roughness of texture.

"Where are your horns?" I ask.

Damien shrugs, pulling me tighter against him. His chest becomes flush with mine, one of the hands on my sides wrapping around my lower back while the other wraps around my shoulder—his fingers becoming entangled in my hair. His skin is like an inferno, hot to the touch yet comforting as well. Lifting his face, red eyes gaze into green. His pale face is flushed, the ends of his lips curled up in a smile. "Just not that far along, I guess," the young man states, kissing the area under my eye, "I've been really fucking lazy these past few days. Maybe my reactions are just lagging behind."

Letting out a low sigh, I accept the answer and close my eyes as he continues to kiss my face; deliberately missing my lips. A fact I find myself thankful for. If he were to press his lips to mine it would feel way too intimate, way too close. There are no emotions in this, just business as being the devil-child's caretaker for a while. Just business. Just…business.

The heat drifts away from my neck and back, pale hands drifting up my arms to pull my hands from the dark locks. Pale fingers intertwine with mine and I move my eyes to look at them. This hand embrace is much different that from a woman's and a man's, not an edge of softness. Just blocky knuckles and chipped fingernails, however I can't help but think it as superior. With a sudden twist Damien pushes all his weight onto me, the sudden change forcing me flat to the floor me as he straddles my stomach. The young man pushes my hands up as far as they can go under a small mountain of pillows and sheets, his still clothed body leaning over me with such a firey look that jumpstarts my heart.

The heat of his thighs and groin sheer through my shirt, the desire that starts to course through my being making my mind become hazed. My pants become too tight for comfort as he leans nose to nose with me, the sweet musky scent faintly clinging to his form. Something cold brushes against my fingertips but I pay it no mind; the sudden desire for him to move, to touch, to…do anything at this point making me twitch—all cognitive thought gone.

"You're not going to like this," the demon chuckles, confusing me as I try to make sense of his words. Then, something soft clasps around my wrist and before I can form a single thought Damien slightly stands and twists me onto my stomach; the fluffy touch from before clasping around my other wrist. Blinking I move my wrists, trying to bring them up from behind my back when the clank of metal meets my ears. I pale as I realize what they are. Warm hands tightly grip my shoulders and force me back around to look into those red eyes. Damien leans over me, a smug look on his face.

"Take the cuffs off," I bite out.

The young man chuckles, his tone dark. "Come on, Pippers. It's just a little payback."

"You were trying to cuff me then! I…I just…you scared me."

Damien's smile falters for a moment. Then, softly he whispers, "Good. You should be."

Pale hands grab the collar of my shirt and hoist me up till I'm sitting, stretching out the muscles along my lower back. I pull at the cuffs again, not surprised when they don't give but still holding a feeble and useless hope that I can wiggle free of them. The ruffling of fabric meets my ears and looking over I see Damien removing clothes. I immediately turn my eyes away, feeling a blush creep along my face.

"Um…" I awkwardly start as I feel warm hands grabbing at the end of my shirt, "I…it's not going to come off with the cuffs…"

"It'll be fine," he replies, pushing my shirt behind my head—the stretch of the fabric pulling my arms back slightly. Red eyes slowly gaze up and down my exposed chest, like a predator sizing up its prey. Small shivers turn into full-blown trembling as his fingers slide down over my stomach and dark hair trail; the thought that if his claws suddenly grow I'll be nothing but paper under those talons. A gasp escapes me as warm lips reconnect with my neck, the devil-child pulling me into his lap. Because of my request I know he can't push me into…that act but… I pull at the cuffs again.

"Let me go, please," I whisper, shivering when the thin fingers caress my sides. Instinctively, I pull back and Damien's free hand shoots up to grasp at the fine hairs on the nape of my neck before pulling me closer. His lips trail up, over my jaw and ear. The hand caressing my side wraps around my lower back, pulling me closer to the heat that radiates from the young man's skin.

His erection presses against mine, the black boxers not doing anything to conceal his excitement from sight. I can feel the smirk forming on his face as my defenses start to fall, and twisting my head to the side I feel his lips barely brush against mine; our breath mingling as the growing need to close the distance between us fills the last of my cognitive thoughts.

"Just relax," he whispers, intertwining his legs with mine before removing the arms from behind my back. I don't move and close my eyes, feeling myself drift away as he continues to speak—his tongue rolling of words of that foreign language I've heard him speak before. A whimper escapes my lips as his fingers touch and hover over the button of my jeans before they slowly unclasp it; my breathing hitching as he undoes the zipper, the dull ache of being confided giving way to instinctive need.

A low groan escapes my lips as pale fingers wrap around my cock, the digits moving slowly as they tighten near the head; the thumb rubbing over the tip, becoming slick with pre-cum. Without thinking I lean into the touch, burying my face in the crook of the young man's neck as my toes curl.

"So responsive," Damien comments, amusement clear in his voice, "I would have thought you'd bite your lip till it bleed than make such sounds." His body shakes with contained laughter, and a spark of annoyance shoots through my hazy thoughts. "Though I must admit," he continues, voice lowering in tone, "The level your voice drops to is rather sensual."

The fingers in my hair tighten their hold; lips brushing against the shell of my ear as sharp fangs lightly graze the tough skin. Every touch setting my nerves aflame, my skin tingling as the pleasure tightens and curls like a spring in my gut; a blinding pressure building up inside. I clench my teeth together as a gasp escapes my lips, my voice becoming strained as I try to collect my thoughts.

Abruptly, the touches disappear and I almost whimper in disappointment. The young man gently pulls my face back till we're nose to nose. Hooded red eyes spark and glow in the dim light, the soft flush that spreads across his cheekbones and down his jaw contrasting with the sharp and angular structure of his body and face. The hand in my hair untangles itself from the blond locks, sliding down my neck to my chest before pushing me down. I fall back without a fight, feeling a strange mixture of relief and disappointment when the devil untangles his legs from mine. Damien reaches under a pillow, pulling out a key. He holds it up in front of me, dangling it between his forefinger and thumb.

"How bad do you want this?" he asks. I stare at the object, trying in vain to move my hands. The chain clicks with the movement and the smile on the devil's face widens. Flicking his wrist, the key becomes balled up in a pale fist. "You want this. You're going to have to earn it."

I sit up with some difficulty, bringing up my knees to try and hide my shame. Irritation gnaws at my thoughts at that smug grin; my own hormones rebelling against me as the pleasurable buildup inside of me yearns to be touched.

"Why are you playing games?" I ask between clenched teeth.

"Games? I'm being completely serious here, Pippers."

Shaking my head I gaze at the young man before me. Something here is very, very off. "You never talk this much during…this! Why the sudden chatterbox mood? You don't play around." I narrow my eyes at him, a thought heightening my anger while filling me with unease. "Are…are you faking?"

Red eyes narrow in reply, the fires of hell sparking in the irises. The smile on his face falls and I watch in slight terror as horns start to protrude from his skull. The stretching of the flesh and grinding of bones echo in my ears, a growl rumbling in the demon's throat.

"So much for playing nice," he states, "But, I can act this way too since it's more fucking acceptable."

Without any warning pale clawed hands harshly dig into the fine hairs on the nape of neck, pulling me forward with a yelp. I close my eyes as pain shoots up and down my neck before something warm and wet presses against my cheek. Dread settles in my stomach like a stone. I dare not open my eyes.

"Since you're hands are unavailable right now, this'll be fine right?" My anger rises at the mockery in his voice and I try to pull back, but the hand in my hair holds tight. "Now open your damn mouth and get to work."

I press my lips into a thin line, eyes clenched shut. The demon lets out an impatient growl and abruptly I'm thrown back on my back. I wince as pain tingles up the back of my head, disorientated until a clawed hand pushes down firmly on my chest. My green eyes snap up to meet red, voice caught in my throat. Every muscle in my being immediately tensing as Damien's free hand pulls my pants down to my feet; the slight scrap of the claws against my chest making slivers of fear stab my heart. His free arm wraps under my thighs and I tightly shut my eyes, expecting the worst. When feather light kisses press against my thighs, however, I gasp in both shock and desire; the dulling fire in my gut stirring back to life.

I keep my eyes closed as the kisses drift further up, the excitement and lust twisting inside like a spring; a deadly concoction of confusion and fear adding to the explosion of sensations inside. My body is dragged a few inches across the floor, the arm under my thighs rising to my lower back as soft lips drag across the tender flesh of my upper inner thigh before pressing a kiss in the crease where my leg and pelvis bend. I hold my breath; biting my lips as the words my conscious whispers of warning become white noise as the ache in my loins starts to border on painful—small puffs of hot breathe hitting the tender flesh. A hot wet tongue slides up the length of my cock and I bite my lips harder to suppress a moan. My left leg bends up on reflex, soft hairs tickling the limb as Damien moves up.

Warm lips press against the tip and I can't cover up a groan as they slide down and a pleasurable heat encases my cock. Tossing my head back, I arch my spine when the lips stop just halfway down—using my remaining willpower to keep my hips still. The hand on my chest glides down my hip. The warm light touches evaporating as they slide over my scars and onto my pelvis before the digits wrap around the base of my arousal. All thoughts clouding my mind turn to smoke as that sweet, sweet warmth moves.

Up and down, tongue moving against the pulsing vein. Dragging to the tip before slowly licking the slit. Pleasure filled noises and gasps escape from my lips as the rhythmic ministrations continue. The ache in my loins curling and twisting as the need for release consumes my thoughts. I desperately kick my pants off my heels onto the floor before lifting my legs up and curling my knees on the young man's back. Biting down harshly on my lips as the heat inside of me explodes, trapping Damien's name in my throat as my seed spills.

The metallic taste of iron falls on my tongue but I can't find it in me to care, my rapid breathing evening out as the adrenaline fades from my veins. I finally open my eyes and sit up a bit to glance down at the mess between my legs. Damien licks his lips, swallowing the remaining contents in his mouth, eyes unfocused as he glances to the side; his mind seemingly in a place far, far away. Then those red eyes gaze at me and without a word he sits me up. The hand on my back feels for the cuffs and soon a small click meets my ears. My hands fall limply to my sides, angry red marks on the wrists. We sit there for a few seconds in my afterglow but slowly the devil pulls me close to him and I can't find the strength to fight back. I find I don't want to.

Light kisses press against my neck and the pulsing warm of his need presses into my pelvis. I wrap my limp arms around his neck, pressing my cheek against the side of his head. Black locks tickle my nose as I plant small kisses along the shell of his ears, teeth grazing my neck as a groan falls from his lips. I'm not sure if I was caught up in the moment or just had a bit of bravo but as I feel his arms wrap tighter around me I whisper, "Move."

Immediately, I fall back. Damien's weight traps me between him and the mattress, his hips grinding against mine in a rough, quick rhythm. I grimace as sparks of dull pain and pleasure flutter in my abdomen; my earlier release causing my prick to become oversensitive to the heat as Damien runts against my front. His face remains buried in the crook of my neck, one of his hands drifting up into my hair as the other holds me close.

Keeping one arm wrapped around his neck, I bring down my other hand. Pushing pass the underwear and wrapping my fingers around his cock. The devil-child draws in a hissed breath, changing his rhythm to match the one of my hand. With a muffled moan the hand in my hair becomes more entangled in the forming knots and Damien lifts his head, his eyes staring into mine. The muscles on his stomach tense and the young man's body stiffens. Red eyes squeeze shut and warmth flows over my hand.

Damien rolls off of me onto the mattress, his arms wrapping gently around my sides. I lift up my semen-covered hand, grimacing in disgust as the white warm liquid flows over my palms towards my wrist. My eyes drift down towards my legs and I let out a weary sigh, regret and guilt replacing the satisfying pleasure that'd once been there. Pushing Damien's arms off of me I carefully climb out of the fort and head to the bathroom. I turn on the water for a shower and grab some toilet paper to wipe off the residue from my hand as I wait for the water to warm up when soft footsteps meet my ears. Throwing the toilet paper away I turn to see Damien staring there with a particularly…odd and confused look on his face.

"What're you doing?" he asks.

"Taking a shower, obviously," I curtly reply, placing a hand under the running water, smiling when I feel the warm drops, "You should take one too before bed."

The devil-child nods and begins to remove his underwear. I instantly shriek, "Don't remove your clothes!"

Black eyes gaze up me, eyebrows quirked in confusion. "Seems dumb to take a shower with clothes on," he replies, "But I suppose I've already done that with you before."

I flush at the embarrassing memory. "D-don't bring that up, and we're taking separate showers."

For a split second shock replaces his confusion before his eyes narrow, anger sparking in the black irises. "Why? We've already seen each other naked, dumbass. What's showering together matter?"

I open my mouth to sharply reply, but slowly close it—unable to think of a truly valid answer. "I just don't want to," I meekly reply, stepping behind the curtain, "I won't be long, I promise."

I don't listen out for the young man's answer as I step under the running water, loving how it drips down my tired muscles and limbs. Erasing away the evidence of tonight. Regret squeezes my heart in a painful grip and I begin to viciously scrub at my legs.

* * *

I slept in my own bed that night, despite Damien inviting me to stay in the pillow fort. It's not that it sounds silly to me—though it is—but…I just wanted some time to myself; the earlier events still too fresh in my mind. The guilt of falling so easily into his grasp making me avoid even looking at myself in the mirror when I awoke. I can't even find it in me to change out of my pajama pants and shirt.

The whining of the kettle greets me as I walk into the kitchen, Damien ignoring it and flipping through his phone instead. Black eyes gaze up at me, and the young man gives a nod in acknowledgement before turning back to the device. I don't reply and grab an oven mitt from a drawer, removing the kettle from the hoteye and silencing the steam screams.

"What time are you heading to the movies again?" Damien suddenly asks.

I pull down two cups from the cabinet. "Butter's said they'll be picking me up at five. What time will Kenny be coming over?"

The young man hums, his phone beeping as fingers tap the screen. "I'll text him to be over around 4:30. That way the other two won't see him come in or something."

With a nod, I fill the cups up with the tea and add the usual amount of milk and sugar to them. Turning I hold out a white ceramic cup for the young man to take, stopping short when I see his black eyes narrowed in on me over his shoulder. Not in anger or irritation but concentration, as if trying to figure out a puzzle from which some of the pieces are missing. A moment of silence passes between us as we become locked in each other's stare—the seconds ticking by dwindling down to a stand still. My heart flutters in my chest, slight warmth filling me from head to toe as my face becomes flushed.

Clearing my throat, I blink and look away; feeling the guilt claw at my thoughts. Warm fingers wrap around mine on the cup and my breathing hitches at the gentle grip. With a slight tug the cup slides from my grasp, the drag of his hand across mine deliberately slow. My arms falls limply at my side and without looking at the young man I walk over to the table to sit. Half-formed thoughts are tossed through my mind as I drink my morning tea.

It's silly but I have to gather my bravo as I glance over my shoulder at the noirette. Black eyes gaze down on me only momentarily before snapping back to the handheld device. An unease tension becomes laced through the space between us and my muscles begin to tense as I wait for the spell to break. I turn back and focus on enjoying my tea, not wanting to focus on the current confusing situation at hand—ignoring the sudden fluttering in my chest.

* * *

The rest of the day passed in the same way. An awkward but hushed tension wrapping around us in a gentle embrace; the mood tender with bolts of confusion and internal turmoil striking through our short conversations and close proximities. Though Damien still yelled at his games with crude words and I curled up with a book, the distance between us on the couch is further than it had been a day prior.

"Damn it!" the young man yells, tossing the Xbox controller onto the coffee table, "Fuck this game! Fuck Mario! Fuck Luigi! And fuck that little dinosaur looking thing!"

I sigh and rub a hand against my head, feeling the starting of a headache coming on. "Must you scream so loud? It's just a game."

Black eyes narrow in on me. "Ah, fuck you too, Pippers."

He stands and walks over to the kitchen, stomping his feet extra hard on the wooden floor as he goes. "Where the hell is Kenny? Damn asshole is late."

I immediately drop my book and glance at the clock on the wall—my face paling when I see the time is 4:47pm. Placing the novel on the coffee table, I rush off to my room to change. Without care, I toss a pair of jeans and a white graphic tee onto my bed. Snatching off my blue pajama bottoms I hastily tug on the trousers, fighting with the causal wear to pull it over my boney hips. A cough interrupts my chaotic thoughts as I pull my sleeping shirt over my head and I turn my gaze to the doorway. Damien leans against my door frame, the jug of milk in his hand. His eyes rake over my form and I fold my arms in displeasure, ignoring the butterflies in my stomach.

"Do you mind?" I sharply ask.

The young man shrugs. "Nope."

He takes a swig from the carton and I let out a deep sigh. "I'm changing, Damien. Go away, and…and stop drinking straight from the carton! It's disgusting!"

The devil just licks his lips in reply, getting rid of the white mustache forming on his upper lip. An almost smug smile forms on those lips as he walks over to me. His walk confident, just like the one the demon-child would have before a fist meets my face. My muscles tense instinctively as Damien draws closer. Those ebony hued eyes linger on my jeans and the fluttering in my stomach turns into knots. A pale finger wraps around one of the belt loops and gives a small tug, and, unexpectedly, the smile on the young man shifts to one I don't recognize.

"Skinny jeans? Really Pippers?"

"Er, well I…I don't…" I stutter and fumble over my words, taken aback by the odd statement, "What's wrong with them?"

His thumb grazes the scars on my hip and I freeze. My green eyes watch the digit intently as small wisps of phantom touches are signaled to my brain, and I start to shake as the illusory touches, though pleasant, feel very foreign. The sleep shirt becomes crinkled as my grip tightens. I want to knock his hand away but can't find it in me to move. Honestly I didn't know I still had these jeans as they'd been a bit of a gag gift from my sister before she passed, bought at the local goodwill for less than three dollars. Damien's finger uncurls from my jeans and, without warning, he spreads his hand across my burn marks.

"Do they hurt?" he asks.

I shake my head. "It was years ago. I don't feel anything there anymore."

A puzzled look overcomes his face. "I…fuck, I can't recall making them."

With a shrug I take a step back, away from the phantom touches and instead start folding my nightclothes to put away. "As I said it was years ago," I sigh, placing the folded clothes on the bed and pulling the graphic tee over my head, "Almost everyone has forgotten as well, but I'm not lying when I say you caused them."

Smoothing out my shirt, I turn back to face the young man, surprised by the almost…upset look on his face. His features narrow and twist in confusion as those dark eyes spark in thought. I wave a hand in dismissal.

"Don't worry about it. It's…it's in the past. They no longer bother me really. As long as I don't do any extremely rough activities I'll be fine."

Damien runs a hand through his hair, the puzzled look deepening on his features. "What…counts as rough activities?"

I shrug. "I haven't been able to participate in P.E. for quite some time. Or, at least, not play sports—not that I'm interested anyway. It's also dangerous for me to run long distances but I've never had a problem with it. Though the doctors also said it's not good for me to be immobile for long periods of time either." A smile forms on my face. "But, I suppose I've been breaking that rule for quite a while now. I can't read and walk at the same time, and last time I tried that I walked straight into a pole."

"So then, we haven't been…?" His words trail off, hand gesturing to empty air; leaving me to fill in the blank spots.

I quirk an eyebrow. "Um, aggravating it you mean?"

He nods and I shake my head. "No. At least, I don't think so. I haven't seen any new marks and it hasn't ripped."

Damien doesn't reply, his dark eyes becoming unreadable and distant. The lingering tension between us thickens and I swallow the lump forming in my throat. The young man's eyes reconnect with mine and he opens his mouth to speak when a knock on the front door makes us both jump and turn our gazes towards the hallway.

Damien looks back at me. "You're going to need to answer that. I don't want people knowing I'm here."

_Of course not_, I bitterly think. Surprised by how hostile I suddenly feel. The knocking persists, becoming rapid knocks as I walk closer to the door. Swallowing the barded words on my tongue I open the door and sharply greet, "Yes?"

Kenny beams at me, Butter and Tweek behind him. My eyes widen in surprise but the bitter feeling remains as I stare at the cheeky blond.

"You're late."

Kenny nods. "Yea sorry about that. But, I had to take care of something with Bebe before coming over and, well, how could I say no when these two offered me a ride?"

"Kenny 'ere says ya own a kitty cat," Butters says, a wide smile beaming on his face, "Is that what ya were worrin' about on Tuesday?" I nod and the young man continues, "Aw shucks, can I see 'im? I love animals!"

Tweek groans. "N-no! I'm allergic to those—ERK—things. Jesus man, I d-don't want to be sneezing the whole night!"

Butters frowns but nods with a sigh before beaming back up at me. "Well then I'll just see the lil guy some other time."

I smile in reply, grabbing my trench coat from its hook when Kenny grabs my shoulder. "Um, Pip," he says pointing to his neck, a smug smile on his face, "You got a little something there."

I pale and quickly cover the bruised skin. Giving a small stuttered 'excuse me' I dash back to my room, past a perplexed Damien, and fish out a red scarf from my closet. Wrapping the cloth around my neck I send the young man a glare. An amused expression forms on his face while he shrugs, but as I head back out towards the main room a pale hand grabs my shoulder. "Use the card to buy your ticket and whatever else from the concession stand. Been looking through your checkbook. How you get by is damn sad enough as it is."

I reel back at the confession and offer, a little irked that he went through such a thing without my permission. "It's fine. I've been saving up," I reply, shrugging the hand off, "I might not have a lot but even I can treat myself from time to time."

Damien rolls his eyes. "Quit being a stuck-up bastard and just use the damn card. If I didn't want you to use it I wouldn't have offered it."

Shoving my hands into the pockets I brush my fingers against the black card. "Are…are you sure?"

The young man groans. "Fucking use the fucking card."

A small smile forms on my face and the fluttering in my stomach begins to tickle my sides. "Thank you."

"Again with the thanking like a pussy? Goddamn it, just fucking get out of here before I take back the damn offer."

I happily nod and head back to the trio waiting at the door. Kenny has already made himself at home on the couch. Waving at us as we exit he calls out, "Stay safe you three, and don't worry Pip. Freckles and I won't make too much of a mess."

I sigh, silently praying and hoping that I don't come back to a burned down house.

* * *

**A/N: Well, I feel that the graphic scene in the beginning was much more...intense than anything prior I've written these two doing. That's good I suppose, as it does show some sort of growing attachment. Of sorts.**

**Love it? Hate it? Got something you want to say? Review and let me know. :)**

**Happy Holidays!**

******South Park (c) Trey Parker and Matt Stone******


	14. Chapter 14

It's nice being out with classmates. I'd almost forgotten how much I like to socialize if given the opportunity, and I have a weakness for dining out—making our stop at Red Robin's an added delight. The unexplained bitterness I'd felt when the two blonds and Kenny arrived at my house melts away like snow in the summer sun, leaving me to wonder what I'd been so sour about in the first place. Placing the menu back on the table I glance around the place. The usual Friday night bustle fills the large spaces along with various colors, sounds, and the smell of burgers and fries. A smile forms on my face at the pure chaos of it all, delighted to be mixing in with the crowd.

"Well fellas, what're your plans after graduation next Friday?" Butters asks, "Kenny and I are gonna head out to Denver and start gettin' settled so we can apply for the summer classes at the College of Aurora. I'm super excited!"

Tweek twitches and lets out a low groan. "I don't even w-want to think about it, man! If I s-s-stay I'll be stuck h-helping with the family—ACK—business. I-it's shit! Total shit!" The twitchy blond buries his face in his hands. "B-but what else can I do? I don't know!"

"Aw, calm down Tweek. It'll be all right. What 'bout your art? They'll probably sell if you gave 'em a chance."

My eyebrows rise in surprise as I turn towards the skinny, twitching young man. "You paint?"

Brown eyes peek up at me between long fingers and slowly the young man nods. "You should see 'em Pip!" Butters exclaims pulling out his phone, "They're real pretty and seem to just burst with energy. 'Ere take a look."

He shoves his phone in my direction and curious I gaze down at it, eyes widening when I see the picture. Even though it's a bit blurry and dim there no doubt that the paining of an otherworldly landscape is a variety of color and vibrancy. The strokes and thickness of the paint breathing life into the two-dimensional design as they flow together to weave the limbs, leaves, stars, sky, and water. I look back at Tweek in shock and disbelief.

"You painted this?"

The young man scoffs, straightening his back to look me dead in the eye. "You don't have to look so surprised," he whispers, obviously hurt.

"No, no, no, I didn't mean it as an insult," I quickly say, turning my gaze back to the painting, "It's just…I wasn't expecting it to be this beautiful."

Tweek lets out a soft squeak but before I can turn back to him the waiter comes to take our orders, and the conversation becomes forgotten as the night moves on. Our talks drift to the food, movies, and recent events in the news. The three of us deciding to head out to the theatre for a late night show. It was as I was buying my ticket however that my hands brushed against something foreign in my pocket. Startled I grip the cool bulk piece of plastic, the crinkled ends of paper biting into my flesh. My eyes widen in realization as I take the ticket and card back from the theatre employee, a stone of dread settling in my stomach.

A cold hand grips my elbow, the fingers twitching as I'm pulled towards the theatre. Butters wraps one of his arms around my neck in a more friendly gesture, saying, "You're gonna love this movie! I mean, who doesn't like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?"

Tweek lets out a violent twitch as he lets go of my elbow, a sour look on his face. "I-it'd be better if frickin' Michael Bay wasn't p-producing it. That d-dude is a menace to films! Explosion here! Explosion there! Fuck man!"

The young man's expression falls as he starts to mumble under his breath. I look up at Butters. "Ah, he does that all the time. Don't worry 'bout it. He's just been a lil' tense here lately." Blue eyes dart over to the coffee addict before Butters cups a hand over my ear. "Seems Craig has been spending more time with a special someone and been cancelin' on his pal over there."

I turn back towards Tweek, taking note of the dimly highlighted scowl on his face. Huh, well that certainly explains this. Usually the young man is quite pleasant and nice to be around—not foul-mouthed at all. "Craig was suppose to come with us, but canceled last minute," Butters lets out a low whistle, "Never seen the fella so mad."

"What are you two talking about?" the young man in question snaps, voice still rising and lowering in multiple octaves as he speaks but lacking any of the usual stuttering. Butters throws his hands up and my eyes widen at the narrowed brown eyes.

"Aw, shucks I was just a tellin' him about the movie. Did ya know Megan Fox is goin' be in this one? I love watching her onscreen!"

Neither of us replies as we enter the theatre, and as the previews begin to roll we all become silent; focusing on the film.

* * *

Personally, I don't find the excitement in action films. Most are mediocre at best, focusing more on the graphics than fleshing out the dialogue and building up the plot to the climax. Of course, I suppose they're better then Hollywood butchering a book I adore by taking their own twist on it. But, still, I can't help but feel my thoughts drift off as the film plays. The nerves in my arm have long since becoming numb from me resting my cheek against the open palm in boredom, my fingers sprawling across my face and pushing the blond locks away. Butters yells at the screen in triumph as one of the protagonist—I don't care to recall his name—lands a hit on the antagonist; Tweek changing his focus from the film to the phone in his hand periodically to angrily push in the keyboard arranged buttons.

I quietly excuse myself and head down the stairs—the loud music and crashing of metal from the film causing a pounding to start in my head. The noise immediately becomes muffled as I exit the room, a sigh of relief leaving my lips as a smile forms on my face. Rubbing the side of my forehead I head to the bathroom hoping that maybe they have some Advil in the dispensers they keep here. Unfortunately, it seems that my stroke of good luck is slowly running out. A 'Sold Out' sticker is plastered against the coin dispenser, leaving the only available items to buy being condoms and cheap 'growth' pills.

Rolling my eyes I carefully step across the red tile floor towards the sink, trying to avoid the growing grim and slime that's accumulating between the tile cracks. I snatch a few paper towels from the side of the sink and run them under the cool tap water before squeezing out the excess water, and placing the cool wet material against my forehead. My reflection gazes back at me from the mirror's depth, the bruises that once decorated my face now nothing more than a slight off-color yellow. Dark circles are beginning to form around my sockets, my lips cracked and spilt from last night. Using my other hand I pull down the scarf and widen my eyes in shock at the size of the hickey along my neck, red marks of what look to be like teeth surrounding it.

_Goodness,_ I think, hastily recovering my neck, _I didn't think it was that bad._

A scarlet blush flushing over my cheeks as irritation momentarily plays with my thoughts. These last few days have been too odd to overlook. The tension that hung between us, the lack of horns during our 'date', and the almost lack of horns from…I shake my head, forcing myself to will the lewd memory away. I want to call Satan again—as odd as that sounds—and ask him if this too is normal for a demon coming out of it's heat, but a tremor shoots up my spine at the idea. The drop call I got that night unnerving and feeling me with an unknown dread.

It's been three days since I spoke with Damien's father. Three days. He had said that the heat would last two to three days more tops with Damien recent sluggish behavior, but maybe this'll take a lot longer than the devil thought? Surely the young man wouldn't stay in my house any longer than he needs to, as we haven't always had the best relationship. I hum and lean against the sink countertop. The devil-child has been acting rather strange these past few days though, and in his heat too if what Satan said applies to the noirette. Damien had said he merely doesn't agree with those beliefs, but there's still that instance on Wednesday morning when I had found him sunken in the plaster of the tub. This act seems instinctually—and is by Satan's words—and given his bloodline I don't doubt that.

A rather amusing and heart stopping thought drifts to my mind. _Could the antichrist have a soft spot for me, or perhaps be developing a crush on me?_

I shake the idea from my head. No, that wouldn't make sense. We've just started becoming civil to one another, there's no room for such intentions and emotions to grow. Besides, what we do is strictly because of his heat…my eyes widen as I think back to the first day this all started. Damien hadn't seemed at all surprised when he knocked on my house that day and found me inside. It was almost like…like he knew I was there. That he…sought me out. He hadn't hesitated in the slightest and pushed himself into my private life. The young man has still been his firey self but…my stomach clenches uncomfortably as my heart flutters. I push myself from the sink and throw the paper towel away.

No. No, no, no, that can't be. If you like someone you don't force something like this on him or her. You don't try to do lewd acts with them while they've repeatedly said 'stop'. You don't let a delicate situation such as this spiral out of control. You…you don't act so cruel and confusing then make kind gestures. Isn't it suppose to be simple? Check yes Juliet and all that? Aren't all relationships—friendship and intimate—like that? You either like them or you don't? Taking a shaky breath I run a hand through my hair, pulling off my trademark hat.

Do I like 'Damien' as I use to know him? Yes.

Do I like 'Damien' as what he's turned into? No. He's cruel in both words and actions.

But… do I like the young man that's been revealed to me during our short civil conversations and comfortable interactions? The person he could become? Yes. Yes, I do. And, that's quite frightening.

He and I…I could see us becoming good friends again if we both tried. Again my heart flutters. Could that be possible though? With all the intimate acts we've done together? Surely time would allow us to look beyond that, make this all a bad memory in our lives. People have stayed friends and have done such acts before, why not us? However, if what I theorize turns out to be true and his feelings go beyond the usual boundary of friendship—a theory I'm finding harder to dismiss as I recall Damien saying it'd be gross to do such acts with Kenny but strangely fine with me—could I return them?

This, I can't answer. I don't have an answer. I doubt it would work out even if I did. Our thoughts and morals are just too different, our paths in life too far apart. It would never work.

* * *

"Heya Pip, you alright?" Butters asks, bright blue eyes gazing at me curiously over the front passenger seat. I shrug and fall back into my seat, placed right behind Tweek.

"Got a bit of a headache is all," I reply, "I'm not quite use to a theaters surround sound. A little too loud and I wasn't expecting it. Don't worry about it."

The blond's face falls in concern. "I'm sorry fella. Hey Tweek, do you have an pain medication in here?"

"Wha-what do I look like?" Tweek snaps, hitting the signal to turn, "A fucking—ERK—pharmacist?" Butter's face narrows into a half-hearted glare before he flicks the other on the ear, causing the energetic young man to jump with a shriek and nearing making me hit the seat when the brakes were momentarily hit.

"You don't need to take your sour attitude out on us," Butters gently scolds, fingers clenching his seatbelt tightly, "Stop at a gas stop. We can get medicine there."

Tweek groans but slows down the car to a crawl to pull into a turn lane, sharply replying, "Alright but I want a soda."

"Strawberry?"

"What else would I get?"

Butters face scrunches up in distaste. "That's just gross man." Blue eyes turn towards me, the young man's signature wide smile back on his tan face. "What do you want to drink, buddy?"

I stutter at the question, words becoming caught in my throat. "I-I'm fine, really. I can just take something whenever I get home."

Butters waves off my statement. "Ah, don't sweat it. I wanted a soda myself anyway."

"Oh," I reply, a little put out by the offer, "Well, water would just be fine."

"Alright then, one water for you, a Pepsi for myself, and an abomination of strawberry flavored soda water for the driver."

"It's c-called a—ACK—Sunkist!"

A loud squeak emits from the engine as the gears are switched into park, the sound immediately stopping when Tweek turns the key. "I'll be back in a minute," Butters states before exiting and making a dash for the gas stations convenience store's doors. Tweek sighs and leans over to slam shut the forgotten side passenger door before looking back at me.

"How'd y-you like the—ERK—film?"

I grimace and the young man chuckles. "Yea, m-my thoughts exactly."

"Why'd we go to that one?" I ask, "Not that I didn't mind going, but well…"

"Butters wanted to s-s-see it," he explains with a shrug, "Wouldn't shut u-up 'bout it." A quiet sigh leaves the blond's lips. "He's been—ERK—h-having a shitty week, so y-you know it wouldn't kill me to go."

Brown eyes look back up at me, a thoughtful expression on his face. "I-I'm glad we're alone n-now though because—ACK—I got a q-q-question for you." He pauses. "W-well, more like an accusation."

My small smile falls and my muscles tense at that. Eric has already caught me doing something improper, could Tweek have figured something out too? I pale. Did Eric show him the photo?

"You s-said you didn't have a—ERK—pet," Tweek slowly starts, "However, n-now you do?"

My throat tightens and I quickly sputter out, "Oh, um, yes. His name is Freckles and he's recently come into my care. Why is that odd?"

The young man shrugs. "I d-didn't think you'd be the t-type to lie. Especially over s-something so—ERK—stupid. Where'd you get Freckles?"

"L-Lying?" I blurt out, "I'm not lying. And, he just showed up on my doorstep one day." I glance out the car window, my eyes traveling over the magenta's and pink that follow the setting sun; the calm blue hue of night's descent already calling out the stars to play. "Little bugger forced his way inside and…I'm just too nice to throw him out."

Tweek hums and gazes at me with a bored expression. "I k-know you're lying. I know when ANYBODY is l-l-lying." I snap my gaze back at him, mustering up an irritated expression while crossing my arms. His eyes widen as he stares at me, teeth beginning to chew on his lower lip. "I hear things Pip. D-don't—ACK—try to trick me. I k-know what you live off of. I-I've known you for years and h-how you act." The young man's words become quiet and my nails begin to dig into my arms at his words. Finding this piece of information…disturbing.

"Don't g-g-get weird on me," he continues, "I keep tabs on—ACK—everyone. N-never know whenever one of you is going to snap. I…I s-saw the newest game stations and the huge TV in your—ERK—living room. You can't afford that! Even that flimsy truck falls into the maybe category!"

Brown eyes narrow in on me, his voice becoming steady as he whispers, "You're hiding something."

I glare back at the young man, my confusion and fear slowly being replaced with a calm rage. Like poison heat spreads through my veins and I calmly reply, "And, if I am? What is it to you?"

Tweek's eyes widen only momentarily at the confession before his expression once again turns back to its previous look. His hands withering and clasping together in uncontained spurts of energy. The thoughtful look returns on his face and brown eyes slowly roam over my form, causing me to shiver. The feeling like being analyzed under a microscope, laid bare before this young man.

"Am I in d-d-danger if…whatever you're hiding stays a secret?" he quietly asks. I shake my head and the other male visibly relaxes, his shoulders going slump as that sharp look leaves his expression. "It's not drugs or some illegal trafficking is it?"

Again I shake my head and the teen becomes even more relaxed, a small smile now forming on his face. "Then…I-I'm fine with y-you—ERK—keeping a s-s-secret," Tweek states with a low sigh, "But, if I EVER c-catch wind of sometime bad and it's y-your fault—"

I huff. "Oh for Gods sake, it's nothing illegal nor…deadly. It's just…private."

The young man is quiet for a moment, as if weighing my words against his thoughts. Finally he nods, accepting my words as truth. A loud click meets my ears and the passenger door opens to reveal Butters, a pile of drinks carried a little unbalanced at his side; a packet of pain reliever in his hand.

"Whoa," he says, the smile on his face turning into a confused frown, "What's with the tension here?"

"It's nothing lad," I say with a sigh, "Tweek and I merely had a disagreement about owning a cat. We both took each others words a little personally." The small on the blond's face returns and he quickly sits down in the seat, passing us our drinks and me my medicine.

"That's not good, fellas. We're all buddies here! It's not good to fight."

Tweek snorts and twists the cap on his soda, making the bottle hiss. "Friends f-fight all the t-time. Keeps ya f-from doin'—ACK—stupid shit! S-s-suppose to anyway…"

Butters smile falters and he turns towards me. "It's still not good to fight though, right Pip?"

I shrug. "Unfortunately, sometimes that's the only way to get something through to someone." After uncapping my water I throw the pain reliever in the back of my throat and drown it. Not daring to look back up to see the look on the young man's face.

* * *

The ride back to my place is quiet and as Butters pulls into my driveway I let out a sigh of relief, glad to see that the house is still standing. "Are ya sure ya don't want to hang out a little longer Pip?" Butters asks, "Is the medicine not workin'?"

"The medicine is working fine, I'm just tired," I reply, opening the car door, "I'm not really use to even being out this late."

"Awww, it's only eleven, Pip," he replies with a chuckle, "But, I understand. Do ya have a way of us to contact ya for next time?" I snap my gaze back at the two blonds, both looking at me expectantly. _Next time? They want a next time?_

"Oh, um, I don't…have a phone. Sorry lads. But, I'm not against you two coming over at reasonable times if you want to."

Butters beams. "That sounds swell! Well, goodnight Pip. I hope that Kenny didn't cause too much of a mess in there for ya."

"If he did then he's staying late to clean it up," I good-naturedly state, "But I'm sure the worst I have to worry about is used plates. Good evening, Butters, Tweek. It's been a pleasure." Tipping my hat to them I briskly walk over to my front door, avoiding the melted ice puddles in my grass as I pull out my house key.

"Pip!" Tweek shouts, making me jump and nearly lose my key. I turn back to him with a start and grow confused at the unreadable expression on his face. "I'm, uh… s-s-sorry about fighting with you."

I give him and nod my head, accepting his apology. With a rumble Tweek's car starts to pull out the driveway and I unlock the front door, quickly walking in and shutting it behind me. It's then that I notice a heavy scent in the air. It's thick but oddly pleasant, and I'm immediately on guard. However, it's not until I recognize the unmistakable density of smoke that my heart begins to race. I hastily look around for a fire but instead find the source to be from a small wrapped up joint. Sitting right between Kenny's forefinger and thumb.

Narrowing my eyes, I cross my arms over my chest, irritation quickly escalating into anger as I watch the blond sit on my couch watching Tom and Jerry without a care in the world.

"What do you think you're bloody doing!" I exclaim, causing the young man to jump from his spot on the couch. Bloodshot eyes glance back at me nervously for a few seconds before becoming hooded. A wide sloppy smile forms on his face and with a nod he brings the joint up to his lips; slowly exhaling the smoke in my direction.

"Hiya Pippers~" he sings, half-heartedly waving at me, "How was the movie?"

"Bloody brilliant," I grimace, marching over to the young man, "Now what are you doing with a joint in my house?" Kenny covers his ears as my tone rises in anger, a sullen look overcoming his once happy features.

"Aw man, you're so angry," he drawls, "Angry Pip is a scary Pip." The smile returns to his face and he holds out the joint in his hand out to me. "Wanna puff?"

I snatch the joint from his hand and walk over to the sink, snuffing out the lit end with a washcloth before pocketing the thing. Turning my gaze back to the young man on the couch, I see his expression shifting through confusion and lost slowly. His mind now just comprehending that the joint is no longer in his hand.

"Kenny," I snap, calling his attention to me, "Where is Damien?"

The blond gets another wide smile on his face, shrugging his shoulders. "Talking to the moon. Maybe…I think."

With a low sigh, I run a hand down my face, rubbing my eyes in frustration. Pointing at the high young man I hiss, "Stay here and watch the your show."

He gives me a thumbs-up and muttering under my breath I walk outside into the backyard, slamming the door behind me. Red shines in the edge of the sky, the dark black hue of night consuming the sky above and allowing the stars and moon to shine their light. Squinting my eyes, I walk to the edge of the back porch and scan the small backyard; a sigh of relief leaving me when I see a figure sitting in the back corner of the yard. Though the features are hidden in the shadows there's little doubt in my mind that it's anyone but the devil-child.

"You prick!" I shout, making my way over, "What in God's name are you and Kenny thinking bringing mari…that sort of thing into MY house!" The figure doesn't reply as I trudge towards him, not even stirring when I stand before him—absolutely livid at the lack or response. "I cannot believe you!" I continue, crouching down to where the figure sits, "One night, I'm out for one bloody night and you go and do this?"

Red eyes suddenly glance up at me and I jump back, startled at the sight. The darkness that surrounds him making the glowing orbs pop out disturbingly. The ends of his eyes crinkle in mirth at my reaction, a deep rumble echoing in his throat.

"Yes, very funny. Let's all scare Pip," I mock, my irritation growing, "Now, get your butt inside. I did not go out tonight just to come home and babysit two almost fully grown men." The shadowed young man doesn't move but suddenly I feel fingers in my hair, the small appendages brushing through the blond strands and pulling at the knots.

"…Your hair is darker," Damien comments, awe in his voice.

I press my lips into a thin line at the comment, unsure whether to become madder or just be amused as his fingers continue to stroke my long locks. "Yes, that tends to happen whenever there is no light Damien," I reply, pulling one of his hands away, "Come on now. Let's go in—"

"Nooo," he whines, "Like, it's DARKER. Browner… It's not shiny anymore. The dark can't change that. Even the sun shows it's darker."

_Oh. He means my hair is becoming darker,_ I conclude, a small smile forming on my lips. "Well, that's bound to happen given my genetics," I explain, allowing his hand back into my hair, "My sister had blonde hair whenever she was little, and from the pictures of my parents so did they."

His hands pause and the once gentle fingers tighten to an almost painful hold. As I open my mouth to tell the young man to let go, his hands fall away and I feel him pat the top of my head. "S'ok," he says, "Your hair is still pretty."

My face grows warm at the strange compliment but before I can react those fingers are back in my hair and I'm pulled forward to feel warm lips pressed against mine.

* * *

**A/N: Alright, this is all I have for you guys for now. Sorry, but we're having to go back to irregular updates now. It's a bummer but if I'm totally honest with you guys between work and the holidays I've used up all my "Ready" chapters. I haven't even finished writing chapter 15 yet. **

**But, as always, I hope you guys have enjoyed this chapter.**

**Thanks for reading and tell me what you think by leaving a review! :D **

**I hope you've all had a very merry holiday!**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Because I love you guys and I left you all with a God awful cliff hanger to leave you all on, I've decided to be nice and upload this. Unfortunately, the next update possibly won't be till February. :(**

* * *

A small squeak of surprise leaves my throat at the contact and my muscles freeze as my heart picks up in speed. The warmth that radiates from the young man's lips spreads through my being, making my face hot as it's stained pink. All at once I can feel every sense I have become oversensitive. His chapped lips rough in texture yet gentle against my own, those pale fingers clenching tighter in my hair and grazing my skull.

But, as soon as the contact is made those lips and hands pull away, and I'm left confused, slightly aroused, and scared. Red eyes gaze at me half-lidded and softly I hear, "Mmm, I'm hungry."

Then, the young man stands and beings walking towards the house, his movements unsteady. I watch him go, not even finding a slight bit of humor in the fact that he's covered in dirt and mud as his presence becomes illuminated by the back porch light. My fingers start to horribly shake as I bring them up to feel my lips, rapid thoughts running through my mind.

_Why did he do that? Did he…did we…why?_

It is only after a couple of seconds that the confusion melts away to anger, adding gas to the already burning flames that are threatening to consume my soul. I'm at my limit. I won't be pushed any further. Tonight is the last night I will allow something like this to slip by.

Humming in thought I lean against the wooden fence that separates my yard from my neighbors. I know that he's much too proud to even admit feelings and if I bring this up tomorrow he'll most likely lie about it as well. That is if the drugs don't steal this memory from him come morning. No, this'll need to be approached carefully and with slight charm. I'll have to will him to show any sort of affection—or lack therefore of—like this in the daylight. A small devious smile forms on my face.

Fine. He wants to play? Let's play.

* * *

Pizza boxes litter my countertop and two bodies snore loudly from their makeshift beds in the messed living room. Kenny wrapped up a cocoon of blankets while Damien is curled up on the couch, a few bags of chips thrown haphazardly around him. Dirt still covers the young man, the earth smudged under his eyes and packed under his fingernails. It was only whenever I awoke and looked outside though that I understood why this was so.

Dozens of holes cover my once smooth yard, piles of dirt scattered across the already thin grass. It's a wonder I didn't trip in a hole last night. No matter though, I'll scold him for it whenever he wakes up and then put it into the past. Such small matters do not hold my full attention right now, but the pan with scrambled eggs and the skillet covered with sausages and bacon does.

I've already cleaned up my appearance, wearing my best jeans and a fitted dark green button-up shirt. Both sleeves are rolled up as I cook breakfast, my front protected by the white apron my sister left behind. A Band-Aid covers the hickey on my neck; the dark blond locks that fall along my neck neatly brushed and my face well cleaned of the dirt left behind by sleep. This will require patience but as I've shown well in the past I have an abundance of this. Besides, if I could woo that witch Estella into showing her affection for me, then a devil will be no more difficult. He must simply be willing to participate in this dance, and from what I know he will be. The young man just needs to learn the steps.

The kettle gives a high pitched whine as the water inside of it boils, and using the oven-mitt on my hand I pull it off the hot eye and onto a pad to a pot holder so that the hot kettle won't scorch the counter surface. Almost robotically I place three teabags into the kettle before turning my attention back to the food, using the spatula to cut up the eggs and a fork to turn the meat. A groan meets my ears as one of the young men starts to stir but I keep my eyes on the popping grease, not wanting to risk getting a burn. But, I keep an ear out to catch a second sign of life from the room behind me. Another groan followed by the squeak of the couch meets my ears and I nearly smile when I begin to hear heavy footsteps against the wooden floor.

Placing the spatula to the side I move the food to a cooler section of the oven top and reach over to grab three plates from the kitchen cabinet. Turning, I'm not surprised to see a sleepy and disorientated devil-child behind me. His black shirt and gray sweat pants coated with dirt. Narrowing my eyes at his state, I place the plates on the counter top and casually ask, "Damien, how did you get covered in dirt?"

His hazy eyes widen momentarily before he takes on a defensive stance, black eyes narrowed on me as his back straightens. I lean slightly forward as he does this, allowing my eyes to relax into a natural state but never losing contact. "Why are you dressed up in a frilly apron?" he counters.

I smile at that, recognizing the defensive tone in his voice. "I'm making us breakfast and didn't want to ruin my clothes." As I speak I allow my eyes to drop down to his feet and slowly drift up, noting every smudge and dirt stain. "You however have already ruined yours. Care to tell me how? Or should I investigate?"

His muscles visibly clench at my words and his eyes cast down to look at the floor. "Um…I might have done some dumb shit…last night…"

"I see," I slowly state, "Anything else you want to add to that?"

Black eyes snap back up to me, but the look of anger melts away to a natural expression like my own. "Look you obviously already know what happened. Just look out the back door and at the used joints in Kenny's can. It just got…out of hand."

"'Got out of hand' you say," I repeat, untying the knots along my neck and lower back that hold the apron in place, "Yes, I suppose that's one way to explain this mess. Of course there are better words to use as well. Idiotic, inconsiderate, villainous: do you want to hear more?"

Damien stares at me, the edges of his features softening. "Um, wow. Fuck. You're really upset."

"Oh, no," I say sending him a small smile, "I'm absolutely livid." Rolling down my sleeves I take my time buttoning up the cuffs again, smoothing out the wrinkles. "I'll set up the table. You wake up Kenny so he can join us. After breakfast I'm going to need you to wash up and get dressed. We have a couple of things to do today."

The devil-child straightens his posture, his shoulders slightly held back as his chest puffs out in a sign of dominance. In three strides he's nose to nose with me, the scent of smoke, earth, and his signature musk filling my lungs.

"And, why should I listen to you?" he breathes, eyes glowing red a toothy smile forming on his face. I ignore his question.

"You know, you have quite the habit of getting into my space," I state, pressing my forehead against his, "It's quite frustrating."

Red eyes momentarily widen at my statement, my actions catching his off guard. But, in three seconds flat, his features become harsh again. With a feral smile he begins pressing closer to me and I have to take a step back to avoid full on body contact with the young man. The edge of the kitchen counter hits my back, the oven to my right still radiating heat. Pale arms block any escape, his fingertips digging into the fake tile surface. Our eyes interlocked as our breath mingles and our foreheads touch; that tension from yesterday returning with a vengeance. The feeling making my blood start to boil and butterflies erupt in my gut.

"You really fucking grind on my nerves you know that?" he says, "If anyone is frustrated here, it's me."

"And, pray tell, what have I EVER done to you?" I retort.

The smile on his face twists further, pink lips pulling back to showoff his sharp teeth. "Plenty."

"Oh?" I question, lifting an eyebrow, "Then please, indulge me. Explain."

"That is fucking one of them," he hisses, pressing closer until our chests touch, his hands sliding back along the smooth counter surface, "Your voice. You always sound so damn haughty with that damn accent of yours. That right there, that's one thing I find frustrating about you."

"You find me annoying because of my voice? What a silly reason."

"I never said it was annoying dipshit."

His statement catches me off guard, and the anger inside melts away to curiosity—the butterflies in my gut rising to my stomach and starting to tickle the back of my throat. The heat that rushes from his body to mine making my nerves start to sing as a devious thought enters my mind. I can exploit this.

"You find my voice frustrating, yet strangely not annoying?" I remark, slowly speaking my words and keeping my eyes connected with his, "If you don't find it annoying, then it must be pleasant to your ears." Damien's features twist in confusion, the devil-child leaning away as I speak.

"Of course, this would not explain the frustration yes?" I ask, bringing up my hand to grasp at the thick hair on the nape of his neck. My fingers entangling with the mess and keeping our foreheads pressed together as I step forward, Damien forced to step backwards till his back meets the adjacent set of countertops—the small island separating the kitchen from the living room.

"Frustration usually is caused by an annoyance. Yet, if my voice is not annoying then the frustration must be something else."

Red eyes narrow at me, pale fingertips brushing my face as the sharp nails graze the skin. His palms press a slight pressure to my skull, a warning of what he can do. But, I don't feel an ounce of fear in my being at that. A small smile forms on my face. He's becoming nervous.

"You," he hisses, "You are so fucking frustrating."

"I, myself as a whole, am frustrating?" I hum in thought, allowing my eyes to close and focus on the warmth that rushes off of him in waves—the heart in his chest beating erratically. I slowly reopen my eyes.

"If it's not an annoyance then I am hindering something," I say, mauling over my outspoken thoughts before shrugging and pulling away from the noirette. Red eyes watch me curiously as I pull back, his hands lingering in the air where my face had been. "Well, I suppose you'll tell me in good time, eh chap?

The devil stares at me, the confusion and curiosity on his face growing as his facial muscles twitch in thought. "You're…acting fucking weird," he replies, bringing his hands back down to his sides, "Like creepy weird."

"No idea what you mean, Damien."

"Like fuck you don—" A sudden loud bang cuts off the demon's words. Another voice drifting into the air as curses and vile words are tossed about like tennis balls on a tennis court.

"Motherfuckin' fucker!" Kenny hisses from the floor, his hand clenching his head. "God damn table! Who the fuck put the fucking corner there?"

I jump at the tone, shocked at the bitterness in the blond's voice. "Oh, er, good morning Kenny. Are you alright?"

"Do I look like I'm ok, dick? Fuck no! God damn table…"

Damien's eyes narrow at the young man. "Hey shithead. Watch your language."

Kenny snorts. "Look at pot calling the kettle black*. Work on your own fuckin' language man."

I glance between the two of them, flabbergasted by the blond's rude behavior. He's always been so nice before…why is he?

"Don't take what this fucker says personally Pip," Damien states, walking over to his friend and helping the young man up, "He's always grumpy after the high wears off. It'll go away after he's been fed and chills for a little while."

With a nod I fold my arms, glaring at the two young men. "And, why did you two figure that it was a good idea to bring that sort of stuff into my house?"

"Oh, get off our dicks Pippers," Kenny bites out, taking a seat at the kitchen table.

Damien smacks the other male on the back of the head as he takes his own seat, giving the blond the middle finger. "It was just for a bit of fun. Don't get your panties in a twist. We didn't get that high."

"I don't care about how high you got," I bite out through clenched teeth, "You are not to bring it into my house ever again."

Kenny shoos my words away with a wave of his hand. "Fine, fine. Can I have breakfast now? I'm fuckin' starving."

With a sigh, I turn and fix two plates. Handing them to my guests before fixing myself one and sitting down as well. It's oddly quiet as we eat. Not a sound made except for the clicking of utensils and our teeth chewing. A slow tension starts to engulf me at this, so use to Damien sprouting statements, complaints, or ideas as we dine.

"Um," I awkwardly start, "So, do you two remember anything from last night? I've heard that certain drugs can, well, affect the mind."

Kenny beams. "Aw man, I remember everything! Tom and Jerry are the fuckin' bomb!" He starts to snicker, jerking his thumb at Damien. "And this fucker began talking to the moon and digging in the dirt for treasure. He said the moon told him where it was."

"Oh shut it," Damien hisses, "You've done way worse before."

"So, you two do remember?"

The devil-child sighs, rolling his eyes. "Look I told you, we didn't get THAT high. We remember some shit."

I turn my gaze to meet his, giving him a pointed look. "I see."

Black eyes look at me curiously before his posture suddenly becomes stiff. The fork he was waving about in his fingers coming to an abrupt standstill. "We remember SOME things, Pippers," he states, "I will admit though. My memory is a bit hazy."

"Hazy?" I drawl before humming in thought, "I see. And, what do you remember?"

His eyes narrow in on me as I speak, the fork dropping from his hand onto the plate. "What does it fucking matter?"

"I don't know. It might matter, it might not. It'd just be nice to get a little clarity on this."

A deep chuckle rumbles from his throat, eyes sparking red. "Yea. Some clarity would be real fucking nice."

Kenny suddenly lets out a low whistle, snapping both of attentions to him. "Alright, I'm out of the loop about something," he says, looking back and forth between us, "If you two don't wanna tell that's your business, but can we please just have a nice motherfuckin' breakfast? You two can hash out whatever drama that's going on later. I'm not going to get myself wrapped in this mess anymore than I already am. Love ya Damien, no homo, but I got my own shit to deal with."

Damien and I stare in shock at the young man, I myself forgetting that he'd been there during the little spat.

"Sorry Kenny," I apologize, "I promise we'll act civil from here on out."

"At least until your ass leaves of course," Damien chips in, stuffing his mouth with scrambled eggs. I try to give the devil-child a pointed look, but it goes unheeded—the young man instead focusing on his breakfast.

* * *

It wasn't long until Kenny left—the blond departing with a wave and a promise of visiting again before heading out the door. Not even bothering to offer to help with the dishes. I tried to persuade Damien into helping clean up the mess, but the little bugger had snuck off just as fast to the bathroom. Claiming that he was simply taking the shower I told him he needed. Really, the lack of manners amazes me.

It was only after placing the clean dishes back into their place that I grabbed a sticky note from my pile of paper by the fridge and began to write down the items I needed to get from Wal-Mart today. While I truly do need to restock on food and look at how much it would be to replace my shower curtain—the couch being a lost cause—this is simply a cover for my true intention.

If memory serves right people would obsess over the devil-child during the first week of his heat—even stalk him—and if this heat is really over, well then such a thing wouldn't happen. It's a bit of a risk, but even I have to admit that that powerful captivating scent he once held is losing its touch—the aroma only bothering me now when I'm in close quarters with the fit young man.

I shake the thoughts and memories that begin to resurface at the edge of my consciousness. The recollection of how his arms felt around me, and his hands gently combing through my hair making my face flush.

The sooner he's out of my house the better.

I don't like being confused like this.

"Why the hell is your face all red?"

With a slight jerk in surprise I turn to face the owner of the voice. His body covered in causal attire: dark blue jeans hanging snuggly on thin hips and flaring out at the ends; nearly covering his tennis shoes, while a red hoodie covers his arms and chest. The hood brought up to hide his face from view.

"It's just hot in here," I reply, grabbing the list and grabbing my coat off the rack; patting the pockets to make sure I still have his card and key, "I have some shopping to get done and you're coming with me."

He groans. "Fuck. Come on, can't I just stay here?"

Shaking my head, I pull on the coat; making sure that the photo and photo are in the same pocket as well. "Nope. I need someone to help me bring the groceries in. That and I'm using your card."

"The fuck you are."

"Consider it payment in place of giving me a new couch." Damien's face falls at this, but he grunts in acceptance before starting for the door.

I quickly walk over to the entrance and open it before he gets there. Making sure to hold it open until he exits before closing it softly behind him. A gentleman always holds open the door for a lady, so a man here shouldn't be any different.

Deciding that holding open the car door would be a step too far right now; I calmly enter the beat-up truck and start the engine.

"Where's your hat at?" the young man asks as I pull the truck out of the driveway; the loose rocks and dirt crunching under the tires.

"I didn't feel like wearing it today. Why? Do I look better with it than without it?" I strain my ears to hear his reply as I put the truck into drive, a soft shocked gargle meeting my ears.

"The fuck kind of question is that? Do I look like a chick to you?"

Coming to a pause at a stop sign I give Damien a pointed glance. "Females are not the only ones who worry about their looks. Otherwise we wouldn't comb our hair, take showers, wear cologne, or dress up."

"You mean like how you're doing now?" he counters.

The words sitting on the tip of my tongue fumble at that. Well that was unexpected. "Precisely," I calmly reply, "A gentleman should always look his best."

"Gentleman, huh?" Damien mocks with a laugh, "Alright then. I'll bite." The young man takes a deep breath, rubbing his hands together as if in anticipation. "Ok, listen up because I'm only going to sound this gay once. If you really want to know, both look good on you. You have a certain face shape that makes almost any haircut or hat look fucking beast on you."

I send him a look out of the corner of my eyes.

He shrugs. "Too gay?"

"Er, I wouldn't say that. Just unexpected," I say, "Um, so you are actually…?"

"What? Gay?"

I nod.

"Well fucking duh. Why would I suck your dick if I was straight?"

Immediately I hit the brake, causing the truck to jolt forward with a putter. Damien curses as both he and I bounce off our seats, our chests heaving in shock.

"What the fuck Pip?" he exclaims, gripping the seatbelt for dear life.

Shaking my head I continue down the street, thankful that the lanes are bare this early afternoon. "Do you have to be so vulgar?" I ask, "I don't need you to bring up…that sort of thing."

"That I sucked you off?" he groans, "I don't get it. Why is that so taboo for you? Are YOU straight?"

I open my mouth to retort 'of course' but find the words lodged in my throat. Because in all honesty… "I don't know what I am," I breathe with a sigh, "I think both genders have their positives and negatives, but I don't know. I don't really prefer one over the other."

Damien hums in thought, rubbing the growing bristles on his chin. "Alright, so you're either bisexual or pansexual then. Easy way to determine this. If you liked a boy but he liked to wear dresses and be called a girl's name would you date him?"

"Well," I drawl, mulling over the question, "I suppose I would. If I liked him enough in that way that is. But, how does that determine I'm pan-whatever."

"It's pansexual fuck-tard. Meaning you just like people. You don't give a shit if their male, female, both, or identify as either or neither. Being bi is when you like male and female, but in their nice neat little stereotypical boxes. You're basically going 'Fuck the system!'." Damien turns to focus his gaze solely on me, the leather seats squeaking as he leans closer to my ear. "Can you even say the word 'fuck'?"

A shiver wracks up my spine as hot breath hits my ear, and making sure I have a firm grip on the wheel I push his face away with my free hand. "Of course I can say it," I reply, rubbing the ear I can still feel the rumble of his voice in, "I just don't like to. It's unnecessary."

"I bet I can make you scream it."

I roll my eyes. "I'm going to ignore that innuendo."

"Hmmm, I wonder if the word will be drawled or cut-short when you do," he mulls.

"Damien," I warn, pulling up into the Wal-Mart parking lot, "If you don't stop I'm not going to get you any pizza or veggies to eat. You'll have to settle with fruit."

His face withers up like a child's when sucking on a lemon at my words, his black eyes glaring at me. "You have MY fucking card, bitch."

"Yes and you're taking refuge at MY house," I counter, "I can always just leave you alone here right now if you wish. I'm use to walking long distances."

Damien's face falters, hands pulling on the strings of his hoodie and scrunching the material around his face. "You play dirty."

"Actually Damien," I say, jumping out of the truck, "I play smart."

A small smile forms on my face as I hear his door open and slam shut, his footsteps falling into the same tempo as mine as we head into the store. For if my theory is proven correct then this just adds another curiosity to my pile.

For if he could simply go home with his card and car, why would he back down in our disagreement just because I brought up the fact that he's living with me temporarily?

* * *

**A/N: Finally I can let Pip start to fight back in his own way to all this shit. **

**As a gentleman of course. ;)**

*** "Pot calling the kettle black" is a saying that means "you do this too and you're worse". I hear it all the time where I live. The people around here so accustomed to it that we don't even need to say the full saying. Calling someone "Pot" is enough to get the point across.**

**Example:**

**"Dude, you're such a slut."**

**"Ok, pot."**

**Just some useless information for you guys. :)**

**As always, thank you all so much for reading! Let me know how this sounded to you by leaving a review. Seriously guys, they mean more to me than you ever will know.**


	16. Terrible, Horrible, Really Bad News

Hello my dear readers,

I'm afraid I have a bit of bad news for you all, as you can tell by the title of this chapter. My computer crashed a few weeks back. The hard drive died and I couldn't couldn't do anything on my computer. I didn't want to make this announcement. I had hoped I wouldn't have to. But, after two weeks of trying to recover the data, my frustrated tantrums, and a few stupid arguments thrown in with my lover over the damn piece of technology I'm afraid this story is going to go ON HOLD.

Please note, I am **NOT DISCONTINUING** this story. I am **PUTTING IT ON HOLD**.

Before this happened I had to rewrite the little fucker three times because my computer kept powering off because I'm a bit of an idiot and didn't plug it up when it was low on power sometimes. Now, with the hard drive gone and ALL OF MY DATA (pictures, documents, school work, actually client work, ect) I'm having to rebuild not only Chapter 16 but EVERYTHING. My profolio and having to redo some client work (I'm a graphic designer so I'm in a sort of hell-on-earth right now). I tried to recover the data but after spend around $200 on the damn thing I just can't give out any more money for it as my school fees and living expenses need tending to.

So, I am sorry and I hope that you all understand this unfortunate fall. I will try to have this story going up again in 3-4 MONTHS.

I just want to say one more thing though. I really do appreciate all the favorites, follows, and reviews so far. You guys have no idea how much they make me smile and I was planning on writing back to every one of the new reviews and my messages once Chapter 16 was uploaded (as well as thank the people who only favorited and/or followed), but alas it seems I will be away for a while longer.

**I promise you I will finish this story.** Why? Because I love writing it and I love writing for you all. I mean damn, you guys are what motivate me to write this. If it wasn't for all of you this story would rot away on my laptop.

Again, thank you all so much and I hope to be back in business with you all soon.

Love,

Danny


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